Legislative
by Black Purity
Summary: Chicago. A city of terror and betrayal, of rising through the ranks to survive. Deidara's just trying to stay afloat amid the sea of filth and turncoats, but how easy will that be once he's caught the eye of one of the most notorious Fringe gangs in the States? The Board makes the rules, and Sasori is willing to play - but when you light a fuse, there's no stopping the fireworks.
1. Promises Not to Keep

**Disclaimer – I do not own the characters of Naruto, only the plotline that I inserted them into. **

Chapter One – Promises Not to Keep

"I wonder if we could have been...friends." Sasori said quietly, staring straight ahead so that it appeared he was far away, in some deep thought. "Just friends, mind you; nothing more. But he was -" He broke off abruptly, swallowing a lump in his throat - the one that wasn't really there. Then he smiled, in a sad way - slipping a metaphorical paradox into the mix was a subtle way of confusing the viewers further. "He was a survivor." Directing his gaze at the closest camera lens, his eyes narrowed into a silent threat that vibrated through the air. _And so am I. _

A petite woman (all sloppy curls, tanned skin and sparkly pink nail-polish) reclining in a lounge chair across from him returned his smile in a practically identical way; however, Sasori caught the small tug at the bottom left corner of her perfectly glossed mouth - the one that indicated she found this fake interview as amusing as he did. "I'm sure it must have been one of your hardest..._killings _yet." She shuddering in a way that was just so wonderfully _superficial _- right on cue. As if this woman had a problem with murder.

"It -" Sasori inclined his head downward slightly, purposefully lowering his eyes just a fraction to add to the effect. _That little detail you always have to remember, _He silently contemplated, _each scene of manipulation is all about atmosphere. Atmosphere and magic_ _tricks_. "I'm sorry. I don't like to talk about..."

"Yes, of course." The woman replied, her eyes glazing over in mock sympathy, "I quite understand. The thought of losing someone that you saw as a brother..."

"He was more than that." Sasori carefully molded his voice into a rough undertone, taking it down a few notches and adding the harsh background beat of broken glass scraping gravel. He gave himself a mental nod - yes, that was the proper dialect providing equal amounts of grief, regret, and barely held back guilt. Checking his posture quickly, he made sure to straighten up like a frightened deer in headlights...as if he just realized the cameras were all focused on him. Allowing a slight blush to form in his cheeks, he practically whispered, "I-I'm sorry, I was just thinking aloud...please, ignore me. It's not important." Again, that added in, subtle perceptibility of lowering his head - showing that the information he held back was _very _important.

The woman leaned forward, maintaining the slight frown that showed curiosity mingled with a sick fascination. "It's all right, but I do believe our viewers tonight would be very interested in what you have to say. Tell me, just what _was _he to you?"

"He...was the only person I've ever felt close to since I first started them - the killings. When he first joined, I thought him to be one of the most capable fighters I've ever known. But that didn't draw my attention so much as the fact that he was so...gentle with the world around him. If you could have seen him..." Sasori shook his head and allowed a happier side of his smile to become visible - the smile that only reached his surface and dug no deeper. "His _compassion_, his _innocence_." _His ignorance. _"I suppose I felt attracted to him because he was the polar opposite of me. Kind, spirited...he made me feel alive again." Then his smile dropped dramatically. "Before I realized the other side - the part of him that was desperate for life, for living - it was too late."

"And you were forced to turn your blade on your comrade," The woman finished Sasori's story for him, gently, as if he might break at anything above a monotone.

"Not a comrade," Sasori interjected, "A friend."

* * *

><p>"What a bunch of bull," Deidara Aozora commented, staring at the grainy TV screen hanging above his head. Each prison cell in the Chicago City Custodial Center - the "Quad C" as it was known among the gangs - had one, to keep the contained lowlifes a chance to see what their wonderful government was up to now.<p>

Deidara's azure blue eyes were two alert, gleaming orbs in the dank darkness of the chamber. _Funny_, He thought now, chuckling slightly, _that despite all the modern tech crapping this city up through the years, prisons have always been the same from the start of humanity._

Of course, he doubted that they had TV's back in the time of the caveman. Evolution had certainly taken its course since then. Certainly. Deidara once again kicked at the padded, soundproof walls surrounding him - this attempt was proven faulty, as he was magnetized to a steel chair bolted to the floor due to powered metal bands around his wrists and ankles. There was no source of light in here but the old-fashioned 2-D screen directly in front of him and twenty feet in the air.

_No door either_, Deidara thought bitterly, _that would be too easy. This is the 31st century, after all. _To make up for the said lack of door, a circular tube-like elevator would descend from the ceiling every time someone wanted to visit the blonde's humble abode. Which, so far, hadn't been often. Then again, he had only been here for all of three hours.

Turning his attention back at the screen, Deidara's keen eyes scanned the pompous and polished lounge area that had been used for the interview. An assortment of pearly white recliner seats had been set up over a plush champagne carpet; the decidedly comfortable and lovely arrangement had been placed on a platform made of warm, light wood raised about two inches off of the surrounding floor space. Soft lighting, and a background of tall windows looking out onto the midnight city of Chicago completed the fantastical effect. The masterful cameraman narrowed and widened his vision at just the right moments, occasionally cutting right to one of the participants' faces.

Deidara recognized both active parties in the interview. One was not so significant - Willow Harris, a popular reporter for the TAL news program; TAL standing for, "Tell All" Local news. The blonde always secretly thought of it as an acronym for "Truth And Lies". Willow was good with words, but the way they fashioned her up in skin-tight dresses that glittered like fairy dust and a few pounds worth of makeup made her seem painfully fake.

The other participant on the other hand, was not so casual. Sasori Sekishokudo was a strange character - shrouded in mystery and wrapped in a riddle, as the saying went. His vibrant red hair and shaded hazel eyes (not to mention gorgeous pale complexion) made him a knockout on screen, but it was his way of speaking that had captured his audience from day one. The ability to be able to switch to multiple different tones and expressions while still maintaining that mesmerizing sway of power over those present was - odd. And it made him the perfect liar. At least, that's what Deidara knew to be true; funny enough, he didn't have a lot of support, particularly from the population of teenage girls.

What was especially weird about this late-night interview was the fact that Sasori never allowed himself in the visual perception of any camera, much less openly shown to the public. Deidara quirked an eyebrow as he wondered what the red-head was playing at.

He didn't know much about Sasori's past - who did, really? - but he did know of the latter's current position in society. Who didn't? Sasori was the famed leader of Akasuna, one of the most widespread crime syndicates in Chicago. These groups were known to the American people as Fringes, because they were the border between the past and future of the States - if you wanted to get fancy. Fringes had been created by the now Communistic government and placed in every major city across the country. Their purpose - to lower the growing population and eliminate all those who disagree with the Board of Directors.

As far as Deidara knew, there were about a dozen different Fringes in Chicago alone; of course, many were small and insignificant - there were only several major ones, according to the TAL morning talk show. Akasuna was the most popular of the batch in the Board's eyes at the moment - Deidara had sworn to anyone who would listen that the group must be made up of nothing but psychopaths and ruthless killers. They had caused over 20,000 deaths in the past year.

Sasori's name had risen through the ranks until he became the epitome of fear and city-wide distress. Deidara had to admit, he was absolutely beautiful to watch as he spewed lies across the screen. Or maybe he himself was just a touch insane and felt attracted to other such insanity coming to life through television.

At the moment, Sasori and Willow Harris were discussing a member of Akasuna - apparently the most recent one, who had joined the syndicate as a sixteen-year-old. Deidara knew that all that crap Sasori was giving the reporter was completely fake and shallow. Sasori had never cared for anyone in his entire life, and this boy was no exception. In fact, Deidara had heard (as a tabloid rumor, of course) that the murderous red-head had killed the boy because he refused to torture his twin brother, who was part of a different group at the time, for information. Naturally, Sasori had dished out this cock-and-bull story about how the boy had been his "friend" and that he had "shown him another side of life" and all that junk. Then Sasori was _forced_ to kill the boy after the latter "betrayed" him. No clarification was given on the details.

"And how did you feel in the moment when you were forced to kill young Sai?" Willow Harris asked, directing towards him her last question of the night.

The camera narrowed in on Sasori's face, and Deidara watched closely for any sign of falsity. The red-head did not so much as twitch. "I had stabbed him - a clean cut to the heart, to reduce the suffering - and I don't remember his expression through the tears," He said, his face frozen in a far-away expression, as if he were reliving the moment. "He looked up at me, and I asked him a final question. 'Why?' It was the one statement he never answered - and, coincidentally, the most important of them all. The light left his eyes...and I felt dead again."

At that moment, the screen shut off and a sharp cranking sound was heard as the circular tube descended from the heavens like salvation on metal wings. Deidara watched it intently as it came to a rest on the far side of the cell, and the heavy steel door swung open. A burly man with thick, tree-like arms and tattooed shoulders under a plain white sleeveless stepped out of its confines. Instantly, florescent lights lit up around the edges of the cell, so that Deidara could properly witness the ugly scowl the man was sending his way.

The blonde smirked. "Could you keep it down? I'm trying to watch the news, hm."

"Shut it, punk!" The man screamed, spit flying from his mouth. How stereotypical.

"Ugh," Deidara muttered, rolling his eyes, "Honestly. Now I know where the saying, 'Bull in a china cabinet' comes from...or was it a china shop?"

"I thought I told ya to shut yer fat mouth!"

"Well did you or didn't you, un?"

The guard peered at his thin prisoner, magnetized to a chair against the padded wall, and frowned. "The hell are ya saying, freak?"

"Your exact words were, 'I _thought_ I told you to shut your fat mouth'. How could you forget what you just said? Nah, forget I asked. I just remembered that the Board doesn't hire anyone with an IQ above the range of fifty, hm." Deidara said casually, shrugging his shoulders as best he could while his wrists were strapped down.

Instead of answering, the guard took out a small silver remote and held it in his hand. Deidara winced as he pressed the top button, expecting lightening to shoot from the chair and electrocute him. The result proved to be the exact opposite. The thin metal bands containing him retracted, and a second later he was free, rubbing his hands along his sore wrists. He stood gingerly, testing his legs again after hours of sitting still. Then he looked up at the guard suspiciously. _Always an ulterior motive. _"So, what's with the change of heart, un? Thinking of becoming a rebel?"

"Not a chance." He jerked his head up towards the ceiling, indicating the lobby above them. "Ya've got a pretty young lady up there bailing ya out as we speak."

This peaked Deidara's interest. "She blonde?"

"Practically your twin..."

_That's because she is, moron_. _Get_ _a clue_.

"She didn't have enough money to get ya out completely, so she and I made a little deal..."

_I don't like where this_ _is going_...

"...that she would treat me some special night. I like 'em young," He added, winking at the seething teenager before him.

"You come anywhere _near_ her, asshole, and you'll regret it." Deidara growled, stepping towards his captor.

Normally, the guard wouldn't be intimidated by a scrawny young boy wearing ratty, patched clothing and worn Nike trainers, but something about the kid's eyes - the fire inside them even while they remained perfect blue orbs - frightened him. He chuckled nervously. "Just messing with yer mind, ya damn brat. Get in there before I strangle ya with my bare hands."

Deidara visibly relaxed before striding over to the cylindrical compartment, keeping a slow, meandering pace. As the guard fell into step behind him, he counted the seconds in his mind, down from ten. Heartbeat, sweat coated skin. _Thump. Thump. Thump._

Five.

Four.

Three and two, blended in an instant.

_One_.

The flash of adrenaline right on cue. Deidara whirled swiftly on the back of his heel, grabbing the man's arm and twisting it into an impossible bend. He barely registered the cry of pain, the red blurring his vision. In another second, Deidara had the man's gun in his steady hand. The guard stumbled back, holding his right arm close to his body.

"N-no. Please..."

"Begging now, are we, un? How many lives did you steal with your _bare hands? _How many girls have you broken against their will? No more. NO MORE!" The blonde screamed.

"Ya-ya won't do it. Yer just a kid. I don't think ya'll shoot me, ya don't have the freaking g-guts," The man stuttered, his mind twisted in agony and fear, making him form half-made sentences.

"What, un? You think I can't be like them? Like the people on that screen, in that interview? You all MAKE ME SICK!" Suddenly, Deidara's face grew deathly calm, until it almost matched Sasori's trademark emotionless mask that he walked around with. "I'm sorry you did this to yourself." He pulled the trigger.

Blood spurted from the man's sweaty temple and coated the walls. His body fell back and his head smashed into the metal chair, caving his skull inward. Then he fell limp to the floor, eyes glazed over, the cruel spark stolen from them by a judge of justice.

Deidara Aozora tossed the gun beside the nameless man's corpse. Then he turned and entered the tube, and the door shut behind him. "Goodbye, hm."

It would be hours before they discovered the body. By then, the killer would be long gone.

* * *

><p>"Inoshima Aozora?" The middle-aged woman questioned, peering up through half-rimmed spectacles. Glasses of any kind in this day and age were rare - particularly with the newest improvement made to contact lenses - so the teenager in front of the woman's desk cocked her head politely at them. The woman saw the inquired glance. "Ah, these," She said, tapping them lightly with her mechanical pencil, "My husband gave them to me as a gift. My eyesight was never the best, but that was in a different era..." She trailed off, examining the papers of verification on the desk in front of her. Her salt-and-pepper braids skimmed her elbows as she reached for them.<p>

Ino glanced around at the lobby once again. She made sure to hide her internal anxiety by keeping a cool façade, but she had stood in the lobby of the Chicago City Custodial Center more times then she could count. None of the visits had been pleasant. This room managed to add to the intimidating effect whilst still maintaining a comforting air of security. Though the walls were made of steel and silver (as was the desk, bolted to the floor) it was also slightly artistic in an abstract way. Columns of twisted metal spiraled up to the domed ceiling, and a sapphire light seemed to emanate softly from every surface.

"You are here to pick up Aozora Deidara, correct?"

Ino broke out of her trance and nodded, re-clipping a strand of short blonde hair that had fallen into her bright turquoise eyes. "Yeah. The money's in that envelope, there." She nodded toward the miscellaneous assortment of papers and files.

As the woman took out a pen and signed her signature on a few random lines, Ino nervously straightened her patchwork skirt and tapped her foot impatiently. _Where is Deidara? I just want to get out of here... _Suddenly, a coarse and familiar pair of hands covered her eyes from behind.

"Guess who?" A voice asked lightly, adding an all too obvious "un".

"Get off of me," Ino replied, shaking him off and crossing her arms. Naturally, her subconscious felt a huge sense of relief as she turned and saw Deidara's smirking expression, but she made sure to scrunch her eyebrows and narrow her eyes into a death glare. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Aw, come on, sis. Chew me out at home for once, will you?"

Ino was about to respond with a scathing comment, when the woman at the desk interrupted them. "That should be all, miss. Be sure to have him in court this Saturday. The appointed date is marked just here," She explained, indicating the paragraph of smeared typing before handing the file to the teen. "Have a nice day."

The younger girl flashed the woman a wide smile of sparkling teeth all in a row. "Thank you so much. Sorry for this," She looked her brother up and down in scorn, "...inconvenience."

"No problem. Don't come again." The woman responded cheerfully, before pulling out her tablet and rapidly typing a message - no doubt to the Board Representative Offices letting them know that another prisoner had just been released.

* * *

><p>The middle of a song was always the best part.<p>

Not the beginning – that part was generally monotone, filled with thumping beats and an underlying base tone roaring out the tempo. Nor the end, when the music faded out and left you with a satisfying feeling of finality. For Deidara, it would always be the middle – when your heart and soul were captured by the music, sending your senses soaring out of control, to pleasurable heights. This was the moment that you couldn't hold on to afterward. You couldn't contain it, or even remember the _exact _feel of it. It was just there and gone. There was no start or end to that feeling – it simply crescendos, then fades. But, as he came to realize, it was never truly gone. Deidara contemplated this as he nodded his head to the beat of the song playing through his iPod earbuds. It was techno music, so not his favorite, but you couldn't often find Pop and Alternative anymore.

Deidara sat on his single-sized bed, leaning against the headboard with his eyes closed. It had been a long day, even longer given the fact that Ino had been scolding him – rather harshly, he believed – ever since he had gotten home. Ever since they left the Quad C, in fact. It took about an hour by tram to get from the prison to downtown Chicago, and it was a trip the blonde siblings took far too often.

They lived in an old, abandoned convenience store, a dull whitewashed building on the outskirts of the city flanked by twin alleyways. It seemed that the owner had left in a hurry, and after the twins were kicked out of their old apartment for lack of paid bills, this seemed to be the best place for them. Maybe it was private property belonging to the government, but they hadn't been caught yet – and it didn't seem like anyone was checking up on the place. It was a two story building, with the bottom half devoted to the store and the upper transformed into a small living space, complete with double bedrooms, a bathroom, and a kitchenette-lounge combo. It wasn't ideal, but it was home – the only safe haven Deidara felt he had.

He didn't notice Ino had entered the room until she tapped him on the shoulder. He looked at her mouthing words blankly for a few moments before pulling out his earplugs. "Come again, un?"

Ino rolled her eyes. They weren't naturally that bright blue color, but she had found a packet of turquoise contact lenses in the bathroom cabinet, and preferred the shade to her own dull brown irises. Her sharp, irritated expression softened, and she sat on the edge of his bed with a sigh. "I said I was sorry for yelling at you earlier, twit-brain. Don't make me repeat it." After a few awkward moments in which Ino twisted her hands together and Deidara kept his eyes fixed on the opposite wall, she finally spoke again, "You want to tell me what happened this time?"

This time. Because there had been a thousand other times before now. Deidara scowled, crossing his arms across his chest. "It's no big deal, really. I was just practicing my art…"

Ino immediately went into a classic face-palm. "So the entire time I thought you were at the Laundromat, you were actually out vandalizing public facilities?"

"Okay, first let me pretend you _didn't _just compare my art to the destruction of property, un."

"_Deidara, _spray painting is not considered art." Ino pointed out in exasperation. It felt as if they had had this same conversation a million times. "The only thing it _is _considered is against the law. Besides –" She added in a lower voice, and Deidara's eyes were instantly drawn to her. "I thought your Fringe days were over."

Her brother scowled and clenched his hands into fists. "My days in Katsu _are _over. I don't blow stuff up anymore do I, un?"

"Only because I confiscated you short-range grenades," Ino snapped back sharply. Then she sighed in resignation. "I was just making sure."

"Anyway," Deidara snarled, leaning back once again, "That asshole Tora left me to rot in prison too many times. Always letting me take the blame. If I ever meet him again..." The blonde slit his hand across his own throat in one quick motion.

"Don't say things like that. Look, Dei…if you keep getting in trouble with the police, the Board will find out. And the next time the coppers show up around an alley corner, they might have their guns set to kill." She reached out and put a hand on her brother's shoulder. "You know I couldn't go on if something happened to you. You are _all I have left." _Her grip tightened momentarily, and an intensity burned like fire in her eyes – the same look she had had the day their mother left, or the evening they had been evicted. Then she lowered her head, and the moment was gone. "Just promise me you won't do anything stupid."

Deidara shrugged her hand off and stared at her for a few seconds. Then, of course, there was that signature smirk again. "Really Ino, me? Do something stupid? It's like you don't know me at all, hm…"

"Brother," This time she just sounded sad, broken – desperate. "Please."

In all the years he had known her as his sister, from the day she first punched him in the jaw with her tiny fist, he had known she was a fighter. But he had never _once _seen her beg. He knew that he couldn't mislead her, mainly because he knew himself. His name was practically the definition of "trouble" in this town, and he thought she had understood that. He would be deceiving her. How could he make a covenant of lies? The cocky grin slipped from Deidara's face.

"I promise."

* * *

><p><strong>AN - Yes, this is the first chapter of my first fanfiction. I hope that you as an experienced viewer enjoyed it, and that it is well received to the general public. Honestly, I wasn't sure how this would turn out - I practically wrote it on a whim - and the idea generated from too many sci-fi flicks for hours on end. **

**A little factor that I feel I must clear up before I leave you - last names. Deidara is commonly paired with the name 'Iwa', as a result of his home village in the show. Stemming from the same concept, Sasori's last name is normally 'Akasuna', this being his murderous title. I decided to take a slightly different turn. From what I've managed to piece together, Aozora is roughly translated into "blue sky". On the other hand, Sekishokudo means "red earth". I figured this would be a good way to imply their differences, while coming up with creative surnames for my characters that no one else had used. **

**Also: I know that the plot may be slightly confusing for you at the moment, but stick around. I promise it will clear up as you receive more information. I'll try to update weekly for the first few chapters, then perhaps slip into a monthly routine. I'm also working on several other pieces for Naruto that I haven't published yet, and am planning two sequels for this fanfiction. Guess I better shut up and get busy, huh? **

**Sayonara! **


	2. You Burn So Beautifully

Chapter Two – You Burn So Beautifully

Deidara stepped back a few paces and flipped his blonde ponytail over his shoulder. He tilted his head sideways, bounced a couple times on his feet, and put two fingers on his chin. Reviewing art took a great deal of concentration, and with the roaring engines of evening traffic echoing from the main road, that was proven difficult at the moment. The teen squinted his gleaming eyes and bent to dump the remaining paint cans into his large canvas bag. He was standing in a little alleyway – all brick walls and rain gutters – shivering slightly in the cold pre-winter air. Just in front of him was the wall of the local bar-and-club combo – the one that got all the customers, not because of the high quality interior, but because the downtown district was mostly made up of wannabes and has-beens that spent their free hours drowning life's sorrows in alcohol. Go figure.

The self-proclaimed terrorist examined his work with fresh pride. Bar walls were typically filled with spray painted decorations, but this little place had been new when Deidara first grew interested in the work, and therefore had belonged solely to him since the beginning. As a result of buildings such as these being the popular gathering spot for gang members, police vehicles normally waited on every intersection containing a club. However, no one seemed to care about this backwater tavern surrounded by human filth, making it a convenient spot for the only graffiti artist in the neighborhood.

His creations were splattered across the wall, each one distinctive, an explosion of color and vibrancy. They were more abstract then any concrete shape, meant to represent _feelings, _not something you could pin a name to. Every piece could be interpreted differently to individual civilians, yet they all retained the same vibe. _Art isn't supposed to last forever, though, _Deidara thought as he widened his vision to take in the entire masterpiece, _One day, I'm going to come back and paint this wall white. That way someone else can come and start over. _He sighed with satisfaction and slung his bag onto his shoulder, loving the metallic sound the bottles made as they clinked together. Then he looked down at himself.

_Hardly presentable, but I'm just popping in for a quick shot… _Hardly presentable, indeed. His tie-dye shirt was dappled with paint residue, making it look like a rainbow had thrown up on his chest. The pair of jeans he sported were frayed at the ends and patched in several slightly awkward places. He had wisely tied his hair up into a high ponytail before working with his "equipment", but the fringe of his bangs had gotten splattered with gold and orange. Ah, well. It would just take a few seconds to down a small glass of beer, and boy did he need it tonight. Most of the bar residents would either be too depressed (or too drunk) to care, anyway.

Deidara walked around to the far side of the building. The front wall was plain brick, the windows had green shutters, and the door (as the blonde knew from experience) could be latched three times from the inside. All in all, very old fashioned. The bar faced a busy road, clogged with cars spitting black smoke onto the concrete – especially at this time of night. There were about two inches of sidewalk space granted to pedestrians at this part of town, and with the drunken antics of late walkers, there had been many an accident on this street.

The blonde glanced around casually as he swung himself over the rail of the stairway leading to the oaken front door. Katsu was an unpredictable Fringe that struck out quickly – but certainly not quietly. They were the closest thing Chicago had to a bombing squad, what with their hand-held grenades and colorful smoke bombs. Their deadly act, however, wasn't just smoke and mirrors. Involuntary to the core, the group prided itself on attacking their targets swiftly, and going about it all flashy and arrogant. Then when their work was done, they just…disappeared. Vanished off the face of the earth, so that occasionally even the Board didn't know where they had gone.

Up until a month ago, Deidara had been one of them.

Yes, he admitted it – he had enjoyed the thrill, the rush of exhilaration and the wonderful sense of _freedom_…but as he had said to Ino, those days were now behind him. _Just _behind him, but gone for good. Maybe.

Still, Katsu wasn't a group you just up and left. They always came back for revenge in the end, even if they waited a decade to launch a surprise encounter. That was how they lured you into a false sense of security. That was how they made it more fun.

If you left a Fringe – any Fringe, really – then you had to watch your back for years afterward. Deidara was never the careful type, but at the moment he just couldn't afford to die. His sister needed him, after all. Even if he was quite useless at the present time. Katsu had paid good money for him to stay, and now he had no way to keep up with their monthly supply of food, the mounting challenges – even the vending machine quarters were starting to add up. He needed a job. He needed to keep a low profile. He needed a drink. Hence, the bar visit.

Ino would, of course, kill him if he got so drunk that he passed out over the counter, but tonight he would play it cool. After all, wit was a very good thing to keep about you whilst being marked by psychopaths – particularly psychopaths with bombs. Stepping up to the door, he pushed it open without bothering to knock.

The Deathbed bar/night club was a very relaxed, casual place with an almost meandering atmosphere. Dark, mahogany-stained tables and stools were scattered haphazardly over an ugly shag carpet. An electric fireplace with a stone mantel sat stoically in the back, looming like a welcoming guard to all those who needed its warmth and sense of security. Deidara, however, headed straight for the counter like he always did and swung himself into the stool on the far left.

The wrap-around granite surface was smooth and polished, and Deidara stared at its reflective, mirror-like quality for a moment as he contemplated the choices in his head. Deciding on something simple, he raised his blue eyes up until they met those of the bartender. He was a thickset, surly looking thug with a buzz-cut and traces of a mustache, and he scowled at the blonde with an unpleasant, scrutinizing expression.

Deidara scowled back full-force, then remembered that he didn't really want to start any fights at the time being. He eliminated the silent challenge in his face and muttered, "Shot of mild beer. Make it quick, un." He slapped a five dollar bill onto the counter and propped his chin up on his palms. "Go on, I haven't got all night."

The bartender glared at the money. "You really think that's going to cut it, kid?"

That did it. Deidara looked down at the crumpled bill, raised an eyebrow and said, "Oh, I suppose you're right. Five dollars – I am being generous, aren't I, hm?" He removed the paper and took out four ones.

The bartender stared in disbelief before stuttering, "H-hey, wait a sec…"

In a flash, the blonde had the man by the shirt collar and was pulling his head down to eye-length, "Keep talking, and it's three," He growled, narrowing his eyes dangerously.

"But I –"

"Keep. Talking." Deidara tightened his grip and hardened his gaze.

The bartender caved. "Yeah, yeah alright…"

Deidara released him and returned to his comfortable position, leaning on the surface of the counter as the man rubbed his neck and backed away, taking the money with him like the greedy pig he was.

"Damn, Blondie – that was one hell of a sass attack."

Deidara squinted, but could barely make out the form standing behind his right shoulder – it was dark in the club, apart from the hazy lemon projector lights skimming the interior at random intervals. The blonde scowled, then turned back toward the counter. Funny enough, he really wasn't in the mood to make a new "friend" over a few pints tonight. The stranger, however, didn't seem to understand the implication. He slowly simmered his way onto the stool beside Deidara in that deliberate way of making sure your every move was noticed.

Now that Deidara could see him more properly, he stared. Sure, you got a lot of strange characters in Deathbed – particularly on Friday nights – but this guy was just…odd. Whereas most people nowadays dyed their hair all sorts of crazy colors, used bright, gleaming contacts for varying iris shades, and drowned themselves in makeup and artificial products, this man's unique appearance looked…natural. His hair was slicked to perfection, and the tips touched the upturned collar of his leather jacket. Not only that, but it also had a silvery-white luster to it. His eyes were dull, but a curious cross of indigo and magenta. He looked like some sort of body builder, with toned muscles visible under his thin white shirt. His jeans were falling slightly past his hips, but he didn't seem to care. It gave him more attention, after all.

The man noted Deidara's curious gaze with satisfaction, and smirked slightly as he leaned across the counter. "Hey, I'm new around here; but Jashin, I sure hope you're a regular at this place. What's your name, chick?"

Immediately, Deidara recoiled at the dreaded word. Chick. _Chick?_ Oh no. No, he did not just go there.

The blonde faked a flirtatious smile and raised his voice a few pitches. "Oh, that doesn't really matter, does it? I think we both know what you're interested in…"

The man's smirk grew wider and more obnoxious. Deidara tried not to gag. "You catch on quick. I like that." He leaned closer, until Deidara could smell the stale beer on his breath. "I like that a lot. What do you say we…"

Deidara hastily interrupted him, "Hey, you!" He called, and the bartender turned toward him with an ugly glare. The blonde smiled and winked. "A standard vodka for my friend here." He jerked his head toward the stranger beside him.

The man leaned back again. "How'd you know what I prefer? Smart too, huh?" He said this with the implication that he didn't like the "smart" ones.

Deidara giggled. "Just call it…woman's intuition." _Your breath reeks of it, moron. _Of course, the fact that he had been in here enough times to recognize the smells of different spirits was rather concerning. "So, you said you were new around town, un?" His speech impediment (beyond his control) still sounded masculine, but the man didn't seem to notice. Despite what Deidara thought of the retard's weak attempts at flirting with him, he was still curious. You didn't get a lot of newbies around seedy downtown Chicago.

"Oh yeah, that," The man frowned, as if not exactly sure why the hot blonde chick in the bar was interested in anything but his workouts and apartment location. Then he relaxed into the customary alcohol phase once again. "Name's Hidan. I'd give you my last as well, but I don't think you're interested." He winked.

"Of course not. What brings you down here?"

"I'm meeting a friend. Well, when I say friend…let's just leave it at this – I owe him one, and he is _not _the type you want to piss off."

"So why are you meeting him, un?" Deidara questioned with less enthusiasm, beginning to get bored as he waited for the drinks. It was probably just some stupid reason that Hidan was trying to make seem impressive. Besides, he knew that if he got home too late, Ino would freak out and go all crazy on him, demanding to know where he had been for the last five hours. Speaking of which, he still had to come up with a believable excuse…

"Sorry, can't tell you that." Hidan stated, looking slightly more sober then he had about two seconds ago. _That _peaked Deidara's interest, but before he could ask any more questions, the silver-haired man grinned and looked the blonde up and down with a scrutinizing gaze that made anger rise up in his chest. "So, you're an artist huh? I'm guessing…spray painter?"

Deidara blinked, genuinely surprised. "How did you know that, hm?"

Hidan leaned forward and brushed his bangs off his forehead. "Well, the paint in your hair and shirt, for one. Not to mention I can smell it all over you. So, artist. Then there's the fact that people working with brushes and canvases don't usually get residue all over themselves unless they're retarded, or something. Looks like it was a blast of paint you just couldn't control. Not to mention…" Suddenly, he was holding a can of candy-apple red, flipping it over in his hand. Deidara did a double take, looking down at his bag, then back up and Hidan, scowling. He couldn't believe he had managed to swipe it. He had barely even bent down, for crying out loud! Hidan looked at him and smirked. "So, spray painter."

Deidara forced his expression into a charming smile. "You got it, un." _Damn. He's smarter than I thought._

Finally, the bartender came back with the drinks (Deidara was sure he was going slowly on purpose) slamming the glasses down in front of them. "That's another five for the big one, over there." He muttered to Deidara. The blonde dug in his pocket and pulled out four ones, just to spite the unpleasant man. The latter scowled, but didn't comment as he plucked the money off the counter and left muttering curses.

Hidan reached over and dunked half the mug in his mouth, dribbling some foamy orange liquid down his chin. "Ah, just what I needed! So, Blondie…" He set the cup down and Deidara tensed, but he simply lit up a cigarette and sat back watching the blonde. "I guess I don't have to ask what a damn gorgeous chick like you does around here."

Underneath his cool façade, Deidara seethed, but managed to contain himself. "Oh, well, I'm a graffiti artist…"

"That it?"

The blonde froze. "What?" He asked, slowly and deliberately. Hidan didn't seem to notice that he had just crossed a critical line into the danger zone. He chugged more of drink before blowing smoke right in Deidara's face.

"Is that all you do? Cause to be perfectly honest…" He leaned closer and put an arm around Deidara's shoulders, "All that back-street alley art just looks like crap to me."

If Hidan thought the impulsive teen was going to agree with him and laugh and smile some more, he was wrong. Dead wrong. Deidara's moment of triumph had come. Still grinning, the blonde grabbed Hidan's mug of beer, lifted it as if he were going to take a sip, and smashed it to the floor. The bar went completely silent. Hidan slowly retracted his arm while looking blankly at the broken glass beneath his stool. "What the hell?"

Deidara stood up as he swallowed the shot of beer in one gulp, slammed the glass onto the counter and wiped his mouth on his sleeve in the same motion. Then he leaned right into Hidan's face and said as simply as he could. "I. Am. A. Guy. Un." Swinging his bag over his shoulder and swiping the bottle of paint from Hidan's hand, he turned to leave. That is, until the silver-haired freak decided to say one more word.

"B-Bitch!"

Deidara turned slowly, his blonde hair swishing into place behind him. Then, just as slowly, a sick smile spread across his face. "I believe you mean, bastard." With a flick of his wrist, he had a smoke grenade balancing on his palm. A nearly harmless little thing that spewed a drug with effects equivalent to alcohol, it knocked out all present for several hours before they woke up to horrible hangovers and violent retching. It was the only thing Deidara managed to salvage off of Ino, with the excuse that it could get him out of a tight spot if the need arose. Pulling the pin and throwing it to the floor, Deidara shouted his old Fringe phrase out of instinct, "Katsu!"

Grey smoke erupted from the tiny circular object, immediately enveloping the bartender and Hidan, his primary targets. It spread quickly to the rest of the Deathbed, until it filled every corner. The blonde covered his nose and mouth with his thick sleeve and made his way to the door, stepping nimbly over the shapes of slumped, drunken men. He held on to his bag tightly in case he tripped, not wanting to lose any of the precious cans. Spray paint was expensive, after all, so he had to be careful what happened to it.

Once back out into the cold night air, it occurred to him that he had just broken his promise to Ino for the second time that night. Blowing up the bar _after _making a scene was about as stupid as it could get. Shrugging, the blonde made his way down the street. He hadn't planned for it to happen, though he had been expecting to lose his temper eventually and get himself in trouble with the Board once again.

All in all, it had been a very typical night for Deidara Aozora.

* * *

><p>"So, we gonna blow it?"<p>

Tora looked over at Kurotsuchi Ember and tried not to grin at her simplistic way of putting the complicated out in the open like that; all no-nonsense, cool headed and down to earth. Once again he admired her pixie cut black hair, charcoal gray eyes and calm demeanor as she crouched beside him under the crescent moon. They were perched on the rooftop of the Bathhouse/Salon – about the only one in the downtown district. Across from them was a perfectly innocent-looking, whitewashed convenience store. Only this particular building – for tonight – was special. It was about to become art.

Tora grinned and deftly slid a hand grenade from the pocket of his gray hoodie, throwing it up and down, watching its ascent and descent with the eyes of a predator. "Oh, yes. We're definitely going to add a little touch of…color, here and there. But I'm wondering if we should wait for Deidara. He always did appreciate my fireworks, and I would hate for him to miss the show." A malicious grin began to spread across his face – that is, until he noticed it and quickly transformed the expression to a scowl.

On the day Deidara had announced that he would not be coming back to Katsu, he had told Tora that he was crazy. Insane. A no good, uncontrollable psychopath. Tora liked the sound of _uncontrollable _– it seemed to mean free and rebellious and independent. But he did not like to be called insane, especially by _Deidara. _In the beginning of Deidara's time in Katsu, Tora had had a certain amount of fondness for the blonde – he was a good fighter and an amazing artist with a sassy, spicy attitude problem. He also had a certain amount of carefree carelessness, and a reckless streak that made him stand out from the rest. He didn't even seem to care what the Board of Directors thought of him.

From day one, Tora knew – Deidara was a survivor. But the blonde also did not approve of being tested, kept like a dog on a leash to serve the leader of his Fringe. Tora had tried to explain to him that that was how these things worked. You join a Fringe, you get paid and looked after – but you have to do what your leader says. And in Deidara's eyes, he was his own leader. Tora knew that wasn't the only reason why he quit, but the others were some he didn't like to think about.

The thing he didn't like to admit – even to himself – was that, it _hurt _when Deidara left. It hurt in a place that couldn't be healed – only numbed through time and revenge. It was time for Tora to have his moment of victory over his former teammate. Not by killing him – certainly not – but by wounding him in the same place.

He crouched and held up his fist. "Get ready."

Kurotsuchi tensed, waiting for his signal. They were just about ready to spring, when a nervous voice piped up from behind. "Do we _really _have to do this?"

Tora relaxed his posture, sighed in frustration, and turned to face the final member of their group. He hadn't wanted to take Ash along, but he needed someone else to spot the mission, and none of the others had been free tonight. They were currently planning several raids on different banks and stock houses, so the other members had been scouting about charting out the buildings' ventilation systems and pipelines and whatnot. Ash was free only because he was a fresh initiate – allowed in at about the same time as Deidara (but not showing nearly as much promise) the two had become…rather close. It was no wonder he was reluctant to cause his friend pain – even if his friend was a deserter.

"Well, unless you have a better idea…"

Ash shifted in discomfort, avoiding Tora's eyes. "Look, I…I know he messed up. But there must be a better way; maybe I can convince him to rejoin Katsu, if I told him what you would do if he refused."

"We've talked about this already. Deidara Aozora will _never _come back – he said so himself. No second chances. We can't use threats to keep him in line, not him."

"But…"

Kurotsuchi stood and looked Ash in the eye. "Deidara made his own choice; he brought this on himself. I liked him too, but he betrayed Katsu – he's not one of us anymore. And he'll have to pay the price. How do you think it would make us look if –" She cut off abruptly, suddenly staring at the store on the other side of the street. "Oh, God. Tora…"

Immediately, the Fringe leader crouched on the edge of the building and directed his gaze towards the store. He blinked in astonishment. Flames were steadily rising from the walls and windows, thick smoke already filling the air above it. Tora quickly scanned the alleys on either side, and could just make out dark outlines moving swiftly from the fire. "Damn," He cursed, clenching his teeth, "This was no accident. Someone beat us to the mark."

They all continued to watch the red pinpricks grow and spiral up toward the night sky. This street was mostly deserted, but the few residents that lived nearby were fleeing their homes and shops. They knew how quickly fire could spread in the downtown district. No one called for help. No one went to see if they could put the flames out. It was as if they knew that someone powerful had _wanted _this – and if they interfered, they would be next.

Ash spoke up timidly, voicing an anxious little thought that had been buried deep within him, "Do you think Ino got out?" They all knew Deidara's kid sister, the one who had smiled so brightly at them when she was younger, and they showed up at her door with her big brother in tow. As she had grown older, that smile had gotten dimmer every time she saw them.

"Nah," Tora said, standing up and putting his grenade away. He didn't really care about Ino's fate – at one point, he had cared about her as much as her brother, but they were going to kill her tonight anyway, so no big deal. He shrugged. "Clearly, this was meant as a warning and punishment to Deidara. They probably boarded up the door and windows before they lit the thing up."

Kurotsuchi looked at the building with cold eyes, and Ash had an expression on his face that suggested he was going to be sick. Tora went to the edge of the building and pulled off his hoodie, tossing it over the side. Then he turned away. "Come on. I have a feeling we don't want to be here when Deidara gets back." They all made their way across the roof and swung down the fire escape, landing lightly on the concrete road. As the threesome slipped into the shadows, Tora turned and looked back. Even from here, you could see the shadows the fire made dancing over stone walls and glass windows.

"I know what you'll think Deidara; it wasn't me." He turned to follow his teammates. "But one day, it will be."

* * *

><p>Deidara whistled as he walked back toward his home, a slight spring in his step. His bag bounced against his shoulder, which would have been painful (there were several heavy cans of spray paint in there, after all) had he not grown used to the sensation. He grinned when he thought back on Hidan's face when he told him he was a guy; that had been priceless. Of course, Ino was going to <em>kill <em>him when he got home, but it had so been worth it. The blonde turned onto his street and peered around at the other buildings – particularly the rooftops. Katsu was still on the lookout for him after all, it wasn't wise to let his guard down. Luckily, he hadn't drank enough to cloud his mind – strangely, his alcohol tolerance was pretty high for a thin, adolescent teenager.

Suddenly his good mood was ruined when he remembered that he had to be in court by noon tomorrow. Generally, he wasn't worried about his court cases – his were mostly minor offenses – but still. This would be, what – his fifth time getting caught at vandalism and loitering? The Board was no doubt becoming annoyed with his actions, and it was only a matter of time before they found out he was – or used to be – in Katsu. Sure, Fringes were under government control, but only the top ranking got a certain amount of protection. The others were just treated as ordinary gangs, dealt with accordingly in the eyes of the public. For Deidara, taking part in a smaller Fringe meant a death sentence for sure.

He quickened his pace, hoping he hadn't worried Ino too much. What would she think if he was late getting home the night before he was supposed to go to court? Their lawyer must be at his house right now, and he couldn't let his little sister come up with a solid defense without the participant.

Finally, he came around the edge of the old car rental place that they had shut down years ago, and walked the remaining few paces with his head to the ground, trying to look as ashamed as possible in case Ino was standing in the doorway. He expected her sharp, reprimanding voice to ring out immediately, and when it didn't he looked up. He stopped. He blinked.

There was a wide, empty gap where his house had been, like a missing tooth in a long row of houses. It was burned to the ground. And there was nothing left.

Deidara Aozora dropped his bag, and it clunked to the gravel below, making a loud clanging sound in the quiet street. "I-Ino?" He called, even though he couldn't move – he was frozen in place, like an invisible hand was holding him back from the ruins. "INO!" He screamed it this time, shock and numb panic flowing through his veins. The sound seemed to stretch across the silence, up into the night sky – but no one was there to hear it.

All at once, Deidara felt all the fight go out of him. The panic, fear – everything left him, making him feel empty and hollow. He was just thinking one thing, over and over again as he fell to his knees in the swirling ash.

_Not her. Not her. Please, God, anyone but her…_

* * *

><p><strong>AN - Hello once again. So I typed up a few chapters of this before I published it, just to give you guys more of an example of my writing. **

**I'm pretty stuck in schoolwork at the moment, but I'll try to update regularly, depending on how fast I can type it up. It feels like the story's dragging a bit right now, but the plot should pick up in the next few chapters, especially when Sasori and Deidara meet for the first time! **

**Please feel free to R&R, comments are always welcome. **

**Sayonara**


	3. Fleeting Remorse

**A/N - And...here's the third chapter. A shout out to Update Zombie, for being my first reviewer ever! Thanks SO much for your support, it means a lot to me. :) **

* * *

><p><span>Chapter Three – Fleeting Remorse<span>

Deidara had never been to an actual coffee shop in his life. It was warm like the bar, though not in the same way. This was the comforting warmth of sun steaming through plaid curtains, coffee smoke rising from small plastic cups, and smooth chocolate woodwork decorating the booths and counter. The bar was warm in the sense of too much alcohol, lemon and lime spotlights, and the sweaty bodies of those around you.

Deidara much preferred the coffee shop.

His bag was lying next to him on the floor, crusted over with dried paint; like his shirt, scratching against his bare skin. Over it, he wore a grey hoodie – one that he had recognized immediately. It belonged to Tora, the leader of Katsu, and it had just been lying there; across the street from the burned down convenience store. He had taken it as more of a tribute than anything else…the murderer had killed his sister, and until he killed him in return, he would not stop wearing the cursed thing. Plus, the winter night had been cold. After he had kneeled in the dust and ash for what felt like an eternity, he had stood up and just…walked. He had circled around the now non-existent building, for no good reason really. Then he had gone across the street, found the hoodie and stopped. That was where the first and last and _only _tear had fallen, right onto the soft grey material. He had picked it up and put it on, retrieved his bag, and kept right on walking.

He hadn't stopped until he reached the border between the upper class neighborhoods and the downtown district and found a little twenty-four hour coffee shop. Ino had liked coffee, though they could never afford it.

Now Deidara sat passed out in a booth near the back as the sun came up, lighting his golden hair on fire. His head lay across his arms, hiding his closed eyes and pale face. A drained cup that had previously contained cinnamon latte (the cheapest he could afford; old habits were hard to break) sat on the table in front of him, looking as empty as he felt.

When he had sunken into the booth a few hours ago, his mind was completely full of cause and effect questions. _It was Katsu, it must have been. Damn it! I knew they were after me, if I had just faced up to it…I should have known they would go for Ino, but I never dreamed they would hurt my sister, MY kid sister, the one they met, the one they LIKED. Why, WHY would they do this? It's all my fault…maybe if I had stayed with her instead of going out to a bar and breaking the law…twice…_

Then the sweet, sandy-haired girl had come over and asked if he wanted anything to drink, because he hadn't come up to the counter to order anything. As if in a daze, he had ordered the cinnamon latte before huddling into his new coat, away from the invisible, lurking eyes that he felt sure were watching him. Three hours and a cup of steaming coffee later, his mind had forced him into sleep – and he slept, for what felt like an eternity.

Eventually, he felt someone shaking him awake, and numbly raised his arms from his head, gazing at the girl with bleary eyes. It was the same attendant that he had seen earlier, and she was smiling gently and offering him a pot of thick, creamy coffee. "Seconds?" She asked cheerfully.

Deidara attempted to wave her away. "Can't afford it," He mumbled, glancing at the rising steam with longing.

"Nonsense!" The girl insisted, pouring it into the cup despite his protests. "It's on the house, okay?"

"Sure," Deidara murmured, giving in grudgingly. He didn't often accept charity due to his normally monstrous pride, but hey, it had been a rough night. He took the cup in his cold hand and sipped. Warm, frothy liquid flooded his mouth, bringing with it the rich taste of cinnamon and cream. Then his eyes revolved upward as he found the girl looking at him expectantly. "Err…it's good, un. Really good."

She smiled brightly at him, until he was sure the flash of her teeth would blind him as they reflected the sunlight. Sunlight. Oh, crap. "Anyway, my shift is over, but Konan will look after you, I'm sure. I told her to just leave you be, maybe pop in with a bagel or something in a few – hey, are you all right?"

_I'm supposed to be in COURT right now! _"Oh, uh, I'm fine! Just peachy!" Deidara stuttered, drawing his bag closer to him. It was definitely a serious crime not to show up in court, but there was no way he could go there and make a solid defense after last night. Someone (Katsu, no doubt) had blown up his house, or burned it, or whatever – but clearly, that group either wanted him dead or warned. Showing his face in public right now was equivalent to blowing up Main Street – it would just scream, "Here I am, doing something stupid, come and get me!"

The girl gave him a tilted grin, and it was clear that by the look in her eyes that she was genuinely concerned. "All right, well listen, if you need any help…" Quickly, she wrote her number on a napkin and handed it to him. "Don't hesitate to give me a call. You know, if you just want to talk…?"

"Uh, sure. Thanks. I'll do that, un." Frankly, Deidara was amazed that she gave her phone number to random strangers off the street. Still, he supposed she seemed pretty capable, so it probably wouldn't be a good idea to get on her bad side.

The girl grinned. Deidara noticed that her dusty blonde hair (recently split into four separate frizzy buns) was now down, and her green eyes sparkled like cut gems. She wasn't exactly beautiful, but she had a sharp look about her that Deidara admired – it reminded him of his sister. "My name's Temari, by the way." She held out her hand.

He shook it. "Deidara." He explained, pointing to himself.

Temari nodded. "Nice to meet you. Now, like I said, I had the night shift, so it's time for me to leave. Konan's already working the counter, just go to her if you have any problems."

Deidara tried not to snort. _Any problems. _If this girl only knew… "I will. Thanks, un." He added as she turned away.

"No problem." She looked at the coffee pot in her hand before placing it carefully on the table beside him. "I'll just leave this here for you, shall I?"

"That would be nice, hm." As soon as she left, Deidara tore the curtains back from the window and scanned the street up and down, looking for flashing red-and-blue lights or maybe a suspicious hooded fellow across the street. Hell, he was even expecting to find Tora staring back at him, just outside with a loaded shotgun. The blonde gave himself a shake, trying to snap out of it. No one had (hopefully) seen him make his way to the coffee shop in the dark, and the last place they would expect to find him was here. However, if he wanted to stay alive while Katsu was after him, he would have to keep moving – they would blow up the whole of Chicago to catch their target. The only problem left was…he had nowhere else to go.

"Excuse me." Deidara jumped about ten feet into the air as a voice emanated from behind him. He whipped around, only to spot an attractive, slim girl carrying a tray laden with bagels and biscuits. She had a slight frown on her face, and compared to Temari, she looked decidedly suspicious and weary. Her skin was pale (like, vampire pale) her shoulder length hair had been dyed a dark blue color, and she wore pale orange contacts that looked unearthly beautiful. The simple dress-and-apron combo accented her curves nicely, and her figure was tall and graceful. A paper machete flower was tucked behind her ear.

_Figures I happen to stumble upon the one coffee shop in Chicago with all the hot chicks. _Deidara thought, attempting a weak smile. "Sorry, I thought you were…someone else, hm." He said, by ways of explanation. She didn't relax at all.

"Deidara Aozora?" Her voice was cold. Honestly, she was practically the definition of "avenging angel".

Deidara frowned. _How did she know my name? _He supposed Temari could have told her on her way out…but he had only told Temari his first name. _Something is wrong here…_

"You need to come with me."

And everything went black before Deidara had time to make a move. The strange thing was, it appeared the girl had just stood motionless, watching him…like she hadn't even done anything at all.

* * *

><p>Deidara had woken up chained to a wall before, but all the other times, he had expected it. This was…different. The room was dim, purposefully grey and dull to confuse the senses. It was all metal and sharp edges, gleaming in harsh florescent lights. The perimeter was small and narrow, but the walls were plain – undecorated. There was nothing remarkable at all about the room whatsoever, which in a way made it even more unnatural.<p>

The blonde slowly came to, with cold steel pressing against his wrists and ankles, so tight that it cut off circulation. His right eye was swelling, he had several cuts dripping blood down his chin, and his hair was matted with dirt; it was as if someone had been beating him while he was unconscious, which didn't make any sense. Immediately, he spat thick mucus onto the floor and blinked, carefully testing the limits of his chains. They were taunt, and barely stretched at all.

"Un…" He muttered, drawling his head up slightly so that he could blink into the cold lighting. "Where the hell…?"

"Aozora, Deidara."

Deidara froze when he heard his own name, then whipped around to peer at the black outline in the shadows. It was funny – there had been no clicking of shoes, no scuffling, no door slamming; nothing at all to suggest the person's presence. They had just…appeared. Normally, Deidara would be able to tell someone's gender based on their voice tones – the result of many people thinking he was a girl until he spoke up. But this person was using some kind of voice scrambler – and old gadget that had gone out of style months ago in the local Fringes. Now, gang members simply used a different voice completely, which was a lot sneakier, considering no one ever knew if they were themselves or the next-door neighbor.

There was something…daunting, about the way the person spoke. It was so calm, collected, and matter-of-fact – a dangerous attitude for a predator to take. "So," The thing (for lack of a better word) said as it moved closer. It didn't step, it just…moved. It was there one moment, and then suddenly it had moved about two inches forward. Deidara half expected it to spout out some random Hollywood line, like "glad you decided to join us," or something. He was disappointed.

"You're him."

"Un, what?" Deidara questioned, shaking his head to clear it of the cobwebs. "Listen buddy, it's _way _too early for this…"

"It is exactly 4:18 p.m. Eastern Time, Deidara. Please, do not open your mouth again or we shall have a disagreement on our hands – one, I assure you, that can easily be resolved."

Deidara shivered. The way it said his name – so naturally, as if it had known him all his life. He shut up fairly quickly.

"Nice to see you can be compliant when your life is on the line. It is always useful to know how much one's associates fear death." The thing said in the same toneless voice. "Now, then…" It moved forward a couple more inches and leaned towards him, but did not come into the light. "Deidara Aozora, age nineteen on your record but…seventeen, by birth I believe." Deidara looked up, stunned, as the thing continued. "You've been in jail multiple times for minor offenses, most having to do with vandalism; when all the while they should have been fining you for drinking under age. Your sister Inoshima, nicknamed Ino, was your only remaining family apart from your mother who supposedly committed suicide according to police files, when in reality she was pushed off the building against her will. Then, of course, there was a father – classic story of you never knowing him and your mother leaving out the details – but he walked out, not because of financial issues and responsibility defects, but because of some _problems _with the Board of Directors, something he didn't want to get you involved with. Your house recently burned down; you think it was Katsu, your old Fringe who was out for revenge after you left. Your sister perished in the fire, leaving you homeless and without a family. Does that about sum it up so far?"

"Who…" Deidara licked his dry lips and flung a loose strand of hair from his eye, "Who the hell are you, hm?"

"I'm not _from _hell, at least you can be certain of that. But be sure that I am on my way."

"Are you going to tell me why you brought me here, un? Or just keep making abstract references to your equivalence with the devil, hm?"

The thing paused before crouching, going into a grotesque shape that looked eerie in the shadows. Then suddenly, it moved; and yet, it didn't move at all. Deidara yelped (a rather unmanly sound) as he suddenly came face-to-face with a man. He was of average build, with vibrant orange hair that was clearly dyed (you could see the brownish roots close to the skull), sticking up in wicked points that appeared sharp as spikes. His pale face was littered with multiple piercings – in his eyebrows, on his forehead, his cheeks, his chin…and his ears were practically made of the stuff. The man's eyes were also "artificial"; his lavender contacts were proof of that, with darker rings spiraling out from the pupil. They had a certain mesmerizing effect. Sure enough, a microphone was attached to the man's earbuds with thin black cords, masking the tone of his voice effectively – not that it made any difference, now that he had decided to reveal himself.

"I am Pein." He hissed, and Deidara was surprised that he had turned the decoder off. His real voice was harsh and cold, with a raspy underlying current.

The blonde's eyes widened when he heard the name. _Pein. _No, it couldn't be…

'Pein' had once been a title that struck fear in the heart of every Chicago resident, as Sasori's did now. The infamous leader of Night, a small assassination Fringe that had risen quickly through the ranks, catching the Board's attention through their quick strikes and their ability to disappear into the shadows after a kill. In an abstract way, they were like Katsu – they just didn't broadcast themselves to the Board for attention. The thing about Night was – they had never _once _been publically named as the instigator of a crime. Never _once _been caught holding the cards. Obviously, they reported all murders to the Board, who had made quite a statement about them. Eventually, their trademark symbol became the black feather of a raven, left at the crime scene.

When it came down to the heart of the matter, there was only one thing Deidara really knew about them: they sure as _hell _were good at what they did.

Then one day they had just vanished for good. Not a trace of them left on earth. The Board had tried to hush up the incident as much as they could, which told Deidara that they were as perturbed as everyone else regarding the sudden disappearance.

And now here he was, his minty breath clogging up Deidara's senses, his glare boring into him as if burning a hole into his skin. _Pein._ Staring into the eyes of a cold-blooded killer, the blonde could only think one thing. _I really should have written a will. _

Pein leaned back, observing Deidara with a fiery gaze that burned through the thin curtain of darkness covering the slim space between them. "Deidara," Again, with that terrifying tone suggesting that this man – this _murderer_ – knew him well enough to address him in so familiar a way. "Have you ever thought of yourself as special?" He slowly walked to the other side of the room as the blonde's attentive eyes followed his every move. The latter blinked once; just once, not willing to lose sight of his possible attacker. It was an odd question, coming from one such as Pein.

"Un? Well, considering I've never done anything remarkable…" He remembered spray paints coming to life on a brick wall. It seemed so long ago. "…as far as others are concerned. I –"

"Answer the question." Pein's voice was so toneless and superficial that it practically sounded non-existent. Which definitely made it dangerous.

Curiously enough, Deidara didn't have that trapped prey feeling he usually obtained within the first few minutes of a trip to the Quad C. There was a strange calm about him that even he himself didn't understand. It was almost as if nothing mattered anymore, that even if he died he wouldn't care in the slightest. There had to be a cause to this odd new reaction…_ of course. _The answer was so obvious that Deidara was sure he would have face palmed himself if he could.

Ino. Ever since his sister perished in the fire, he had done what he always did – his body's way of dealing with shock, and fear, and horrified guilt. He had shut down. You couldn't tell from the outside – no, not one bit; because the one emotion Deidara Aozora would never show was anguish. He would pretend like nothing bothered him for long, because every aspect of life was meant to be fleeting, never remaining for more than a moment. Yet, somehow, Deidara knew that the feelings he would allow himself to feel in this moment would always be there – they would last forever, and in that way, true art was not eternal. Only the bitter things lasted for all eternity. So, he _didn't _allow himself to feel them; he pretended as if they never existed, and never would. But at the same time…he knew that nothing in his life would matter anymore until he admitted what he was experiencing.

"Deidara," Pein said again, moving closer by a half-step. "Do not evoke my impatience. Answer the question. Have you ever done anything to get you…noticed, in Chicago?"

Deidara frowned, then smirked. "Listen, I _might _havea participation trophy or two from forced gym classes, and I _might _have a few art awards. That's it, okay? Not exactly what you're looking for, un."

Pein eyed him, and for the first time a speck of emotion crossed his face. It was contemplative, like he was trying to dissect Deidara's insides with his stare and discover how truthful he was. Finally, he appeared back into the thin slice of light coming from the somewhere above them. "Then how exactly do you explain this?" He held up a thin gray tablet, with an image blaring on the screen. It was a picture of Deidara, in perfect likeness. The blonde felt his stomach flip over, because in the digital photo...he was sitting in a coffee shop. Pein continued, "This image was burning on every screen of the Underworld until 4:30 Eastern Time this morning."

"What…" Deidara swallowed thickly to clear his dry throat, "What's that writing above it, un?"

"It's a code that all Fringe members know."

Now the blonde felt panic growing within him. _Fringe members. _"What does it mean?"

Pein looked him dead in the eye. "Get Deidara." 

* * *

><p>A shadow under the hood of a cloak the color of night. That was all you would have seen if you had looked in his direction – the tall, lean figure outlined by the muddy brown wall behind him. He was hunched over, hiding his face from numerous people staggering by (drunk or drugged, no doubt). He ducked away from the blaring lights of casinos and night clubs, moving silently into the deeper darkness of an alleyway. His black eyes scanned the area around him at a ten foot radius. You could never be too careful with your money and – more often – your life, in a place such as this.<p>

This was the Underworld, the "lower level" of Chicago. Built in 2200 by the government for "correctional behavior purposes", it had been hollowed into a large cavern under the city. The only way civilians could access it was through tube-elevators that required a special pass and signed form stating you were not a minor – on pain of death. The purpose of the Underworld was obvious at first glance. They had piled it high with bars, casinos, night clubs, and cigarette stores – anything that would attract the scum of the city, so that the Board of Chicago had somewhere to dump them. The _true _purpose of the Underworld was harder to find. It was swarming with Fringe gangs; they gathered everywhere, making nests like rats in abandoned theatres and apartment complexes. Every man you passed on the street here could be one, and you'd never know it – until a knife went cleanly through your back.

The man in the cloak crouched low to the ground, his movements swift and fluid; he was barely noticed in the alley, just another patch of darkness.

_You will find him outside the Moon Dance Casino._

Now out again, into the blaring lemon-and-peach lights flashing from the nearest drug den. Slipping between sweaty bodies, cutting through smoke-filled air. All part of the routine, the thrill of the chase already flowing through his veins. He could feel the adrenaline level beginning to rise, but forced it down – he needed to save that burst of energy for the right moment. Finally, the Moon Dance Casino came into view, its glow of lavender and silver emanating a strangely calming effect.

_Bring him to me. _

The man slipped in his contacts, with practiced hands. Suddenly, the colors became brighter, crisper, and he squinted into the thick crowd of people laughing too loudly. Bending his head only slightly, he peered around, a frown forming on his lips. He needed to make this quick…knowing who could come out in the deeper hours of the night. Where was his prey? Surely, Pein hadn't mistaken his location. Pein didn't make mistakes.

A few moments later, the man found his hypothesis proved correct once again. There was his target, leaning casually against the brick wall of the Moon Dance, his arms crossed against his chest. Smirking slightly, the man moved toward him. However, as soon as his target saw him, he started upright and stared like a deer in headlights. Then he bolted.

_Alive._

Instantly, the man gave chase, darting after him quickly so as not to lose sight of him. Shoving his way through the wild crowd, he made sure to keep the target in his line of sight. However, the lights, the flashing color spectrum – it cut into his concentration, and frankly, it gave him a headache. Then his target made a fatal mistake, one that caused a smile to ghost momentarily over the man's lips. He ran into an alley. He ran into darkness.

In another instant, the man had his target pressed again the wall roughly, a knife to his throat. The man couldn't help but grin under the black cloth covering his mouth. Of course, it quickly faded when a cut-glass voice echoed from his target's mouth.

"Oi, ya damn Uchiha, it's me!"

The man dubbed "Uchiha" blinked, then sighed quietly. "Hidan." It was a statement, one of resigned disappointment.

"No duh, asshole! I mean, what the…"

The Uchiha released him abruptly, and he fell onto the cold dirt, his head cracking against the wall. It certainly silenced him. "Explain your actions, then. Why were you running from me if Pein hired you? Surely you knew that you would come to no harm."

Hidan scowled forcefully, standing and rubbing his backside. "First of all, Pein didn't 'hire' me. I owe him a damn favor, that's all. And I knew _you _weren't going to hurt me."

The raven-haired man pulled the cloth from his mouth and frowned. "That does not comply with your recent actions. Why were you running?"

Suddenly, the silver-haired man looked uncomfortable, shuffling his feet and peering around anxiously. "I…kind of got into a bit of trouble, and…let's just say, I thought you were someone else."

"Ah," If there was one thing the Uchiha had learned over his many years of servitude to Fringe gangs, it was this – _never ask questions; curiosity often serves no other purpose then getting you killed. _And while he would never in his wildest dreams think of breaking that rule in regard to _Pein…_Hidan was a different story. "So, what did you do this time?"

Hidan glared at him once again, considering shoving him away – then quickly deciding against it. "None of your damn business, Itachi. Just take me to Pein, will you? I'm tired, and he told me I'd have a room when I got here!"

The last part could be considered a whine, and Itachi rubbed his head with another long-suffering sigh. Would these migraines never stop plaguing him?

"ITACHI! Answer me, will you? I swear to Jashin…"

"Shut _up, _Hidan." Itachi responded, tucking his hand into his pocket. An instant later, he had popped several pills into his mouth.

Hidan raised an eyebrow. "That considered healthy, weasel-boy?"

Normally, Itachi would have slit Hidan's wrists for daring to call him such a name, but tonight he really couldn't be bothered with unnecessary assassinations. And besides – he was feeling generous. He turned, raven-black hair falling loose around him. "Come on, I'll take you to Pein. But you had better keep up, because I will not wait for you."

Scowling once again, Hidan fell into step beside the man as they inched out of the alley and onto the crowded streets. They cut a path through the crowd, the former glancing up at the borderline edges of surrounding clubs and shops. Immediately, he spotted the subtle glint of old fashioned security cameras. The government didn't usually keep a close watch over this place – they never really cared one way or the other what Fringe members did in their free time. It was the outside world that really mattered – the "upstairs". It was the people they killed that mattered – the population rates they lowered. Until then…who cared what they did off the big screen? Who cared how much they fought for drugs and drinks, fought over girlfriends and cigarette packs?

No one gave a damn. And Hidan liked it that way.

"So tell me, Uchiha," He piped up once again, picking up the pace to catch up to his colleague, "How's Night been doing since we got back?"

Itachi barely spared him a sidelong glance. "Isn't that irrelevant to you? You left before we started our murders. Besides, I thought you went off to join a group of…rebels."

"I _did, _for a while. But," He shrugged, staying surprisingly cool. "I got bored."

Itachi grunted before speeding up, clearly not wanting to talk. Hidan got the point, and wisely slowed down. He hadn't seen Itachi Uchiha for five years now, but he still couldn't forget how he killed – quiet, bloody. Best not to get on his bad side until they got used to each other again.

Itachi led him through numerous twisting passageways and alleys, past abandoned shop fronts and blaring dance theatres. It was as if he had Chicago memorized from top to bottom, through every lonely backstreet and dumpster corner. The city was exactly as Hidan remembered it to be – filthy, wild, out of control. Evil.

"Followed you bastards on the news," Hidan tried again. He didn't want to admit it, but the connection he had felt to Night just wouldn't leave – not even after five years. He…_wanted, _to be accepted by them again. It was a childish feeling, but then again – Hidan was far from mature. "That TAL talk-show program thingy. Jashin, that woman was annoying. What was her name? Willey? Wanda?"

"Willow Harris."

"She's a bitch."

"Yeah."

Hidan _almost _laughed. Itachi must have really hated that girl, to talk about her in such a way. "Take it you don't listen to that bullshit anymore, then, do you? Not after…" He abruptly broke off, swallowing a certain tightness in his throat. He threw Itachi (still walking in front of him and apparently not listening) a sidelong glance. "Hey, listen. I heard about…you know, _that. _I'm…"

"If you are about to apologize, Hidan," Itachi remarked, not breaking stride, "You will be the second person to do so."

"Who was the first?"

"Kisame. Who else?"

"I wasn't going to apologize."

Suddenly Itachi stopped and turned, his whole body stiff and his red/black contacts gleaming in the light of a nearby streetlamp. A knife had somehow slipped from his sleeve to his palm in a millisecond. "_Good._"

Hidan flinched violently as the Uchiha turned away. He could _taste _the words on the tip of his tongue, so close were they to being said.

_I'm sorry, Itachi. I really, really am. _

* * *

><p>Kakuzu didn't scare easily.<p>

During a whole horror movie marathon, he hadn't flinched once, even when several others sitting around him in the 4-D cinema burst into tears (two teenage boys, a bored looking construction worker and several forty-something males to be exact). He hadn't even blinked when some of the more…_mischievous _members of Night attempted to push him off the edge of a three story building to settle some old debts. He hadn't so much as twitched when being led to his death in the electric chair for a simple bank robbery.

No, nothing could scare Kakuzu.

Many people were convinced it was some kind of disorder – it seemed scientists and health professionals were finding more of those every day. As far as he himself was concerned, he just had a hard head and nerves of steel. It wasn't like he went around flaunting the fact, but hey – a stocky build and threatening glare were useful to have in the Underworld. Unfortunately, this also meant that guard duty at the front of Night's headquarters was beginning to become his personal position, and these long periods were _extremely _dull. Leaning against a brick wall, flicking dust from your sleeve, fingering the gun in your holster…a bland existence, and he was slowly discovering for himself. Nothing exciting ever happened, apart from the occasional drunk stumbling into the alley by mistake. However, this particular night was…different.

The first indicator Kakuzu received that things were about to get interesting was the pounding footsteps, coming from just beyond the alley corner. Immediately, his hand shot to the belt around his waist and he was in the process of pulling out his pistol when he heard the yell.

"_KUZU!_"

He paused, flickering the safety off with his thumb and slowly moving toward the front of the alley he was guarding. "Who's there?" He called out, slightly puzzled about the familiar way this unknown person addressed him.

And suddenly, before he could react, a thickset, well-toned shape came crashing toward him. Kakuzu gasped, trying to aim the barrel in the massive form's general direction. Before he could gather his mind, the man was upon him, tackling him against the wall. Kakuzu could hear insane laughter, and for an instant fear struck him, along with the bewilderment and rage. "What the hell?" His voice sounded muffled against some thick material – no doubt the man's shirt – and his tone conveyed helpless fury.

More laughter. Then a voice he thought he'd never hear again. "It's _me, _ya damn heathen! Jashin, you lost some brain cells while I've been away, huh?"

And then the fear consumed him. "H-Hidan?" He questioned, trying to keep his attitude neutral.

"Who else?" The man pulled away, and Kakuzu caught the flash of his silver hair and magenta irises. Hidan wrinkled his nose in distaste, then grinned. "You weren't gonna shoot me, were you?"

Kakuzu looked at the gun clutched tightly in his hand. Immediately, he loosened his grip and stuffed it out of sight, scowling. He was annoyed now that he had allowed an amateur – Hidan, no less – to spook him. Stupid really, after Pein himself informed Kakuzu of the man's arrival. "Next time you pull a stunt like that, I won't hesitate." He snarled, crossing his arms and looking his old partner up and down. "I see _someone _needs to lay off the cookies, eh?"

"What's that supposed to mean? You're fat as a bull, just like the last time I saw you!" He too crossed his arms and turned up his nose in a snobby way.

Kakuzu hated that look. He pounded his chest in one quick motion, "_This _is all muscle, sugar-boy. Just don't expect any special treatment, now that you're back." He smirked at Hidan's glare. It surprised him how easily he could just fall into this again – their banter, goading each other on to a fight. It was so natural that if felt as if Hidan had simply taken a stroll around the block, instead of leaving Chicago for years…and years…and years. "Admit it. You've gone soft."

Angry, Hidan started forward. "You take that back –"

A few seconds and an almighty shove later, Hidan was spitting dirt out of his mouth and glaring up at Kakuzu from the cold hard ground. They locked gazes for an instant, and the tension in the air was palpable. Hidan could see that the shove had been more than proving a point. His old partner's eyes conveyed all that he wanted to say, to ask – but his pride prevented him from doing so.

Hidan had become accustom to reading the emotional expression of Kakuzu through the miser's actions. However, he was surprised to find that now, in the openness of the older man's face, there was no anger, or bitterness. Only a question.

_Why did you leave?_

Hidan broke off his gaze and directed it toward the moon-splattered ground. There was no way he could answer that yet. Not even to himself.

A sigh echoed through the alley, and Hidan looked up to find a familiar hand extended toward him. Grinning, he took it. "Don't you even _say _it, bastard."

Kakuzu smirked. "You're _going soft._"

"Damn you!"

They both knew the words had no meaning behind them.

"If you two are quite finished…"

Once again, Kakuzu whipped out his gun and pointed it toward the shadows of the alley wall. An instant latter, Itachi Uchiha detached himself from the inky black and raised his hood ever so slightly. "Damn it, Uchiha! You want to end up like this idiot?" He inclined his head toward his younger, naïve partner.

Itachi raised an eyebrow. "In no way whatsoever."

Hidan continued to grin absently for a few seconds, before fully comprehending what Itachi had implied. "Hey!"

"Where's Pein?" Itachi interrupted the clearly unimportant comment Hidan was ready to unleash, directing his question to the senior member.

Kakuzu jolted his head in the direction of the alley. "Down in the Basement. Torturing some guy he found off the streets."

Itachi frowned. "I was under the impression that our recent arrival in Chicago was…unavailable, to outside sources."

"I never said he was a spy, did I? Nah, just some former Fringe member. Maybe Pein's convinced we'll learn something from Katsu through him."

"Pein informed me that he wished to work incognito until we decided to move a major piece on the board. I doubt this is checkmate." The Uchiha glanced toward the boarded up steel door at the far side of the alley. His gaze was not cold, merely…calculating. "Something must have come up." Without another word or glance at his companions, Itachi slipped into the shadows once again and flowed like liquid toward the targeted door. An instant latter, his hand was locked firmly around the knob.

"Hey, hey! Leader made it pretty clear that they were not to be disturbed!" Kakuzu called after him. Itachi disappeared around the other side. "Shit. He's gonna have my _head _for this."

Hidan nudged him. "That'll be a sight."

The older man threw a half-hearted punch his way, but the albino dodged it easily. "Shut up. And get your sorry ass in there, Leader wants to see you after he's done interrogating the prisoner."

As Hidan sauntered over to the door (waving his hips in that flashy, arrogant way of his) he turned and called back, "So what did this bastard do to get on Pein's bad side?"

Kakuzu shrugged. "No idea. He's kinda strange looking – classy blonde hair, blue eyes look. Oh, and get this…he's a guy, but I've never seen a more feminine frame. It's a bit disturbing, actually."

Hidan froze, his hand clamped around the edge of the door, ready to swing it open. Something about what his old partner had said reminded him of something…or someone. "Feminine, you say?"

"Yeah. Half the guys in Night wanted to ask him out by the time they dragged him down to the Basement." The miser paused, contemplatively starring at the brick wall in front of him.

"What's his name?" Hidan asked, suddenly interested in the blonde, _feminine _man sitting in the lower level of his old HQ.

"I think they call him Deidara."

* * *

><p><strong>AN - That's it for now. Okay, seriously, this is where I start updating weekly. I don't have ANY of chapter four written up, so you guys will have to be patient with me. Remember...new to all this! **

**Please continue to rate, review, and come back for more! Reviews are always encouraging. **

**Sayonara **


	4. Smaller In Person

**A/N - Hello, everyone! Here's chapter four. Like I said, I'll try to get a (near) weekly update - just promise you won't freak out if I don't publish a new chapter EXACTLY a week from today. I'm still pretty busy right now, and I can only catch a quick moment (if that) to write. **

**Anyway, please enjoy! As always, feel free to R&R.**

* * *

><p><span>C<span>hapter Four - Smaller In Person

It wasn't really the obvious confines of his new "room" that bothered him so much as the lack of artistic attributes. Oh yes, Deidara knew that the door was locked, the walls were layered with soundproof padding, and the small window in the corner was barred. It was much like his recent cell in the Quad C – lacking the entertainment of television, naturally. Still, at least he wasn't magnetized to a steel chair or chained to the rusty metal pole that appeared to be keeping the ceiling from crumbling.

No, the only problem with this latest arrangement was the _grey. _Burnished iron and silver melded together to form sharp edges and corners, and the only pale, sickly light came from a mercury bulb hanging on a cord above his head.

Deidara had been sitting with his knees pulled to his chest – not on the chair, but against the wall – for what felt like an eternity. His arms hung loosely at his sides, with one finger absently twirling a strand of golden-blonde hair around...and around…and around. His eyes burned with blue fire, the only indicator of his rage. _Imagine what I could do with just two bottles of spray paint in this room, un! Or even a colored-smoke bomb!_

Art was honestly the only thing he could focus on right now without going insane. Too many events had transpired in the course of twenty four hours; he couldn't think about it. He just…couldn't process it, even if he tried. And Ino…

Deidara closed his eyes, determined not to dwell on the matter. He had exhausted his brain enough already, trying to think through his current predicament. Suddenly, the silence that had surrounded him for hours was punctuated by the prominent sound of echoing footsteps, emanating from the hallway outside. The blonde leapt to his feet, pressing himself against the wall next to the door. _I'm gonna jump this guy, and after that…I'll think of something, un. _It was just like the cheesy plotline of one of those old thriller/action films he used to watch with Ino, which made him worry slightly. Too cliché, too well known. Still, he had no time to think of a new idea…the noises beyond the door grew louder and louder.

His plan locked in place, he crouched as the footsteps stopped directly outside. He tried to convince himself that he would overpower whoever was on the other side, no matter how experienced a fighter. All he needed was the element of surprise.

"I can see you, Deidara."

Deidara froze at the cold, toneless voice that filled the quiet of the cell. _There goes that idea. _

"Step toward the opposite wall, with your hands above your head."

"Or what?" The blonde answered, clenching his sweaty fingers into fists. His spark of defiance was stupid and childish, considering there was now no way for him to escape. He couldn't be bothered to care.

"Or I shoot you through this wall. Believe me, with my talents and current weapon, it would be extraordinarily simple. Still, I would prefer not to make a mess." The statement was so blunt that Deidara blinked and instinctively backed away. "Keep going. Hands on your head, now."

Scowling heavily, he did as he was told. "Damn it," He muttered under his breath. The fleeting hope of freedom had evaporated in an instant, leaving cold dread to settle in his stomach. In that moment, he realized that the will to live still flared inside him. _Survivor. You're a survivor. _That was how he was classified, in the natural order of things.

The cell door slid open quickly, and a figure was outlined against the dim background of the hall. He was wearing a black cloak (also cliché, Deidara noted) and dark hair spilled in inky waves from the sides of the hood, snaking down his shoulders. Red eyes gleamed from under the cowl, and for an instant the blonde felt a flash of fear. _Pull yourself together. They're just contacts. _

The man stepped into the cell, and Deidara noticed the subtle gleam of a knife under the thick material of his robe. _I don't remember seeing this guy before. Then again, I was drugged when they dragged me down here. _In fact, now that he thought back to it, he _did _remember something – a shadow against the wall, in the abstract form of a human shape. Shivers crawled up his spine, for no apparent reason.

"How'd you do that, un?" Deidara questioned, backing against the wall. The man raised an eyebrow. "It's just…not many people I know can see through a freaking solid wall. Some kind of tech, isn't it?" He smiled charismatically as the man tilted his head, even though the feeling of unease was slowly growing. "So is it the contacts? Come on, you can tell –" He stopped. Something was wrong, something was very, _very _wrong. The fear – it just kept bulging in his gut, choking him. Ridiculous. There was no reason to be afraid of this guard; he was just another crony, after all. If anyone, Pein was to fear.

It was then that Deidara noticed a thin mist floating through the air. And it was _then _that he realized – _the bottom half of the man's face was covered. _A thick brown cloth was wrapped heavily around the nose and mouth area.

_Shit. _

Fear continued to consume him, tearing at his insides and blurring his sensible consciousness. _Some kind of drug, _he thought wildly. _What are they trying to do, un? _It was possible that they were attempting to placate him, to exhaust his mind and body after the fake surge of adrenaline. But why would they…?

Deidara fell against the wall, doubling over and coughing furiously as if attempting to rid his lungs of the poisonous substance. The terror was gradually overwhelming him, making him want to scream. He could already feel tears leaking from his eyes, making tracks down his cheeks. Gasping for breath, he struggled to stay away from the man in the black cloak, the shadows of the cell – even the lone light bulb, swinging above him on its cord. Suddenly, everything felt like a threat.

_Focus, FOCUS! Think, you idiot! _But he couldn't think, and panic gripped his mind. He felt himself slipping away. _Then hold on to something. _He desperately tried to remember his old convenience store house, his sister, even the faint memories he had of his mother. _NOTHING'S WORKING! _His brain screamed at him, sending every single nerve into overdrive. His muscles tensed, and he shrieked in horror, slamming against the wall.

And still, the man just stood there. Watching him.

_Wait. WAIT! Think, Deidara, think!_ And then he had it. The one thing that always stemmed the flow of fear, the one thing that always calmed him down…was his art.

_KATSU! _He yelled internally, grasping on to a last string of hope. He could see them…the moments of fire and ash, exploding into fragments of color, burning into the indigo sky. _KATSU! KATSU! KATSU! Katsu! Katsu…_

Slowly, his mind settled and his heart rate decreased until it was merely a dull thumping sound in the back of his head. He sucked in as much air as he could, finally resurfacing from his panic attack. It had, no doubt, lasted only a few seconds; though it felt much longer in his mind. _Geez…if explosions calm me down, I must be seriously messed up, un. _Cautiously, he tilted his head toward the door and caught sight of the man, still standing in the same place.

_He must think the drug is still affecting me. _Deidara was suddenly struck with inspiration. Maybe his plan of escape could work after all. He went into another hacking cough, though he made sure to slow his movements, making them appear weaker. _You can take down any opponent, no matter how experienced… _He slid down the wall, onto the cold, hard ground. _…as long as you have the element of surprise. _

Just as he suspected, the man slid the knife from its bindings and slowly made his way over, trickling across the wall like water. Deidara tensed his muscles slightly, but was sure to maintain his half-conscious look: eyes practically closed, arms loose at his sides – even his hair hung limp.

The blonde was only aware of the guard when the man's shadow fell across his face. He coughed slightly.

_Not yet. Not yet…._

The guard seemed to check his slow breathing before bending down.

_Now. _

Immediately, Deidara grabbed the arm with the knife and twisted it to the left. In the same movement, he shot his leg straight out and kicked the man square in the chest. There was a gasp of pain, and the blonde leapt to his feet, moving in with punches and quick jabs. The knife had fallen to the floor – that had been his main goal – and now the enemy had gone into a defensive position. Scratching his nails down the man's face, the blonde managed to rip the covering off his nose and mouth, though he wasn't sure what good it would do now. Deidara threw a powerful roundhouse kick to the right, but his opponent grabbed him by the ankle and flipped him clean over, slamming him into the ground.

Blinking back dark spots, Deidara tried to get to his feet but felt a heavy foot land on his chest, knocking the wind out of him. He struggled, but his movements were jerky and pathetic…he wouldn't be getting up any time soon.

_It's over, un. And that must have been the lamest escape attempt in history. _He silently berated himself.

That's when he caught sight of the bomb. It was sitting about two feet away from him, lying just so in the shadows. It was such a perfect situation that at first Deidara wondered if it had been put there on purpose. _Nah, _He decided, _the guy must have dropped it while we were fighting, un. _It was a smoke grenade, powerful enough to create a loud blast – and possibly blow off a limb if you got too close. Still, it was the ideal distraction for getting away. Slowly, his hand inched towards it.

"Are you ready to cooperate now, Deidara?" The man asked him.

Deidara could hear the barely perceptible static of a voice decoder. He frowned. Why would Pein give that kind of equipment to his cronies? Surely they didn't matter enough to protect their identities like this. Oh well – didn't have time to think about that now.

He felt his hand grip the circular object, and searched for the pin with his fingertips.

The man – like the asshole he was – pressed down harder with the sole of his boot, and Deidara winced when he felt something crack in his shoulder. _Keep going, don't let it distract you._

"I asked you a question. Please respond." He said again, bending down until his glowing red eyes were level with the blonde's fiery blue irises. "You must answer me Deidara – or else I am afraid you will make this much harder on yourself. Answer me." Suddenly, something seemed to snap in the man's stare, and his gaze intensified ten-fold, turning…rather maniacal, actually. _"Don't ignore me!" _

Flinching slightly, Deidara finally came across the pin. Meeting the man's eyes with a cool, steady side-look, he spoke; his voice was crippled with pain. "G-go to hell, un." He pulled the pin, chucking the grenade at his assailant's face. "KATSU!"

There was a terrible, animal-like scream as the bomb erupted into a flash of gold and red sparks. Smoke emanated from the spot where it had gone off, and quickly filled the cell. The boot was lifted from Deidara's chest, and he gingerly stood up as a series of alarms began blaring through the base. Automatic sprinklers went off while the blonde staggered toward the door. Without checking to see if he had killed the man, Deidara slipped through the doorframe. Even if he were dead, it could possibly be hours before they discovered the body.

By then, the killer would hopefully be long gone.

* * *

><p>Pein's office was dark. In fact, it was so full of shifting shadows and blends of dull grey that the few items of furniture lining the walls were distorted into grim reapers and cobwebs. This one room in the new HQ seemed to be a direct pipeline to Pein himself. Or rather, his soul.<p>

But that was okay. Itachi Uchiha liked the dark.

As the raven-haired man stood there, in the center of the small space, he contemplated that perhaps his own interior was as black as the pipeline. Then he contemplated the unfairness of that contemplation. _I'm confusing myself. FOCUS. _He forced his attention back to the tapping sound. That constant drumming, making him feel like a little kid again, standing in front of his father and waiting for a lecture – maybe a harsh hand on his back or cheek. Pein was tap, tap, tapping – his fingers moved fluidly across the desk, and Itachi could feel the harsh, cold gaze burning into him.

"What happened?" He wasn't using the voice decoder, this time. Despite his broken, chipped voice, the statement sounded calm.

Itachi shrugged. "How should I know? I assumed that Tobi knew how to handle a child, and therefore my services were not required."

Pein snorted. "You put too much faith in him."

"I don't put faith in anyone," He responded coolly, "You know that. It was simply an expectation that he would do his job, as is essential for all members of Night."

Pein held the stare for a few seconds, then dropped his gaze and sighed. "How is your cousin? I hear he took a grenade to the face."

"The skin on his neck and face have been…scarred. We've given him a mask as temporary protection for the damaged cells. Also, there was some neuro damage – nothing too serious, but he does act a bit _odd _on occasion. Of course, it doesn't help that he wasn't all there to begin with. Other than that, he should be back to work in no time."

"Fine. And the kid, Deidara. Have you traced him?"

"Actually, no. He is…surprisingly stealthy, for a bomber."

"Well, he's had practice. Other than the escape, was Tobi's mission a success?"

Itachi nodded, pulling out a tablet and placing it on the desk. "Yes, he managed to analyze Deidara's internal functions in response to fear. It seems that he is more subject to it than most, but can escape from its grasp easily. Beyond drawling conclusions for this data, we are also testing the blood and DNA samples we obtained from Deidara when he was still a prisoner. No results have proved of interest so far, but we'll keep looking."

Pein grunted, and Itachi could sense this meeting coming to a close. He turned and strode towards the door without waiting for a dismissal.

"Itachi," Pein called, and the raven-haired man paused, glancing back over his shoulder. "Do you think the fact that he was able to escape fear without difficulty means something?"

Itachi shook his head in spite of himself. "Lots of people can escape fear, Pein." He turned again in the direction of the door and exited the room, muttering under his breath, "I had to _learn _to like the dark."

* * *

><p><strong>To: Oil<strong>

**Subject: Pest Problem **

**The bomber is on the run. Estimated to be wandering the west quadrant of the Underworld. Last seen on a local surveillance camera by the corner church on Lakeview Road, 1:34 a.m. Central Time. Armed with a common knife; possible grenade hazard – target is dangerous and elusive. Proceed with caution. **

**You are aware of the consequences should you fail. **

**Regards,  
>M.M. Walkers -Official Spokesman for the Board of Chicago- <strong>

"Oi, Kakuzu!"

The older man flinched as Hidan's voice rang through the hallways, bouncing off metal plating. He was currently standing in the doorway of the Watch Room with a steaming cup of coffee resting comfortably in the palm of his hand, quite relaxed until the little brat called out to him. Kakuzu blinked and leaned against the wooden frame, peering in to view his associate.

The Watch Room had a small perimeter – even so, it was congested with pieces of higher tech that Night had managed to scrounge up since their return to Chicago. It wasn't much, but at least they had decoders, protected computer software, and several surveillance cameras placed in strategic positions throughout the Underworld and the upper level.

Hidan ripped the earphones off of his head and swiveled in his office chair to look at his partner. "Hey, you hear me or not?"

Kakuzu sighed, not really wanting to leave his comfortable spot. "What, Hidan?"

The silver-haired male scowled heavily. "Listen, heathen, if you're not interested enough to even _look my way, _I'm not gonna waste my time –"

Faster than a heartbeat and with all the grace of a black cat, Kakuzu lunged, and in another instant stood beside him. Hidan gaped in shock as a tiny droplet of coffee sloshed over the plastic rim. Kakuzu scowled at the puddle on the floor before raising an eyebrow at his partner. "_What, _Hidan?" He asked, more forcefully this time.

Gulping down his apparent shock (and an approving grin, though he would never admit it) Hidan spun back around to face the screen. "I just intercepted this email. It's from the Board to this 'Oil' guy."

"Email?" Kakuzu questioned, bending in to peer at the blaring white surface, "The Board would never communicate through something that old and open." _Unless they wanted someone to see this._

"Yeah, but when you think about it, wouldn't it be the perfect cover?"

"Hiding in plain sight." The older man nodded, silently contemplating the fact that they could still think so similarly after so long. It was…weird, having Hidan here again, and he wasn't sure if he liked it or not. "Hmm. The bomber…?"

"It must be Deidara, then." Hidan said crisply, as if he had figured it out from the moment he saw the word.

Kakuzu blinked. "How do you know?"

"Uh, I um, don't."

The former raised an eyebrow. "Did something…happen, that I should be aware of?"

"Shut up. Look, trust me – I just know he's good with explosions and shit like that."

He shrugged. "If you say so. Now the question is, what could the Board possibly want with our young blonde friend? Originally, we thought it was another Fringe gang that put the notice out there; however, it's possible we've been looking at it all wrong." Frowning, Kakuzu straightened up and left his coffee cup on the table half empty. "I better tell Pein about this. If it's the Board involved here, we may be in over our heads."

"What about the whole reason you guys came back in the first place?"

The older man froze for an instant before continuing his steady pace. "You don't have to worry about that. Not yet, anyway."

"I'm on your side, ya know."

"Are you?"

Hidan scowled at his partner's retreating back. "Damn paranoia," He muttered, turning back to scan the email again. He leaned back in his chair and sighed, contemplating the problem in front of him. "So, Deidara – what did you do to piss these guys off?"

* * *

><p><em>I have no idea where I'm going. <em>

_And I just noticed._

"Un." It came out as more of an exhausted sigh as Deidara slumped against the alley wall. He was hungry, he was filthy, he was…tired. He had never known that lack of sleep (coupled with traumatizing events, of course) could affect the body in this way. It dragged at his every limb, pulling him down until he _physically _couldn't move, couldn't go any farther.

_Just a short rest, _He thought, sliding to the ground and clutching his arms to his chest.

_Yeah, that's what they all say. Next thing you know you'll be the walking dead. _There was that annoying, sarcastic little voice of reason again.

He groaned and shoved himself to his feet. In the back of his mind, he knew he had to keep moving, keeping moving…or they'd find him. They'd imprison him. They'd –

Wait. A noise in the building beside him. A rustle, barely perceptible – but that was what made it so suspicious, as if the cause of the sound was trying to go unnoticed. Gulping deep in his throat, Deidara slid a knife from his sleeve and clutched it in his sweaty palm. It was the same knife he had stolen from the security guard, a few hours earlier. Now, it was deep into the night and darkness obscured everything around him – but the noise was still there.

Deidara moved along the wall, following the sound to the door of a small cathedral. The great oak doors were split down the middle and cracked in several places, as if it had been hacked with an axe or knife. Cautiously, the blonde leapt over the railing of the marble steps at the entrance and stood in front of the door. He reached out and gave it a small shove. The wood fell away instantly, shattering to pieces at the slightest pressure. Deidara jumped back, holding the knife out in front of him. Then he lowered it slowly, stepping into the church.

He gasped. The beauty of the small building was obvious through the mahogany pews and stained glass windows. However, something rather detracted from the atmosphere – dozens of them, placed in random positions, in gruesome postures. _Human corpses. _

They were everywhere, and there were so many – sprawled across the aisle, crushed under the kneelers. Blood had spilled over the floor, staining white marble and spring green carpet…soaking through everything. The smell of death lingered in the air, stale and bitter and rotten. There had obviously been a recent fight – too close for comfort.

_Looks like a Fringe battle if I ever saw one. _

No doubt two groups had clashed, but why here of all places? Nothing could get you government attention in the Underworld; officials didn't care what they did to each other down here. Unless it was something drastic – say, rigging the place up with bombs and blowing it sky high – it wouldn't even get a one-column article in the TAL controlled newspaper.

Suddenly, Deidara heard the noise again. He held up the knife and made his way up the aisle, stepping gingerly over fleshy, distorted shapes. He approached the small stone alter, quickly taking in the golden chalice and the bottle of holy water. There it was again, cutting through the silence – it sounded like a moan.

Deidara made a sudden movement, stepping around the table and plunging the knife out in front of him. Then he stopped, lowering the knife and gaping in shock. A small figure was leaning against the back of the alter, wrapped from head to foot in a rough brown cloak. A hood covered his face, hiding any recognizable features. From what Deidara could see, his wrists had been slit cleanly across, and an artery on his neck had been severed. Blood leaked from his left shoulder, and the arm appeared broken.

The blonde tried to swallow the dryness in his throat. Very quietly, he whispered, "Can…can you hear me?" There was no response.

Slowly (still keeping the knife at his side) Deidara crouched down in front of the young man. He carefully snagged the edge of the hood with his fingers, and tugged it gently away from the boy's face.

The first thing he noticed as the hood fell back was the _red. _For one terrifying moment, Deidara thought it was all blood, and bile rose at the back of his throat. However, the realization that it was hair did nothing to calm his rapidly beating heart. Now he caught sight of the half-closed hazel eyes, clouded with pain and exhaustion. A pale face, white as a blank screen and completely drained of color.

Deidara fell backward, scrambling away from the man. "W-what the hell, un?" He exclaimed – quietly, of course. Because it had taken him about 1.5 seconds to comprehend who the sad form in front of him was. How many times had he seen that face on the news?

Sasori Sekishokudo was far smaller in person.

* * *

><p><strong>AN - And...done! Yes, this was one of my shorter chapters, and for that I apologize. Still, I only wanted to cover Deidara's escape and a few other key points before the MAIN PLOTLINE kicked in. **

**So, our two favorite artists have finally met! Well, not really, but...you know. Sorry for the kinda/sorta cliffhanger; still, I hope you're all enjoying it so far! **

**Please come back for more. Arigato, and until next time!**

**Sayonara**


	5. Little Devil

**A/N - Hello once again! I know, I know...it's been over a month and I'm just now updating. I'm a horrible person, gomen! Feel free to bring out the ripe tomatoes - at the end of the chapter, of course! The work load has been awful lately, and I kept blowing off this project to get other stuff done. But I'm back to it now, so hopefully you'll be seeing more of me soon! Please enjoy!**

* * *

><p><span>Chapter Five - Little Devil<span>

Deidara wasn't sure how long he sat on the floor of that church, staring at the injured man who he should have hated. Strangely, though, he couldn't bring himself to hate this half-dead, pathetic excuse for a human being who's blood was making pools on the granite beneath him. Something about this situation was different from the security guard in his jail cell, or the skeptical leader of Night. Deidara had seen Sasori before, and heard of the horrible things he'd done…and he had hated him through the screen of his 3-D hologram system, back before he had been evicted.

But now that he looked at him in person for the first time, he felt…nothing. No, even worse – there was something tugging at his consciousness, something keeping him from plunging his knife into the red-head's gut. He recognized it as an emotion he didn't experienced often.

Pity. He felt _pity _for this cold blooded murderer, this demon who feasted on the suffering of others. _What the hell is wrong with me, un? Come on, MOVE you idiot! _But for some reason, he stayed right where he was, fastened to the floor of that church.

Occasionally, a wet cough or a groan echoed from Sasori's lips, but for the most part he remained silent, hazy eyes focused on empty space.

_He's dying. Come on, Deidara, it's not like YOU have to kill the guy. All you have to do is walk away, and he'll bleed out in an hour at most, un. _Deidara finally shifted, slowly pushing himself to his feet and stretching out stiff muscles. The knife was still clutched in his palm, making a bright red indent across the pale skin. He straightened his back and stood there, pale and erect, opaque eyes glaring at Sasori through the darkness. He looked to all the world like he was composed, calm. In truth, he was panicking.

Deidara threw caution to the winds and lunged forward, grasping the neck of Sasori's cloak and pulling him up to eye level. "You think I'm gonna save you?" He asked in a throaty whisper, keeping their faces inches apart. "Think again, un." And suddenly he was yelling, not sure where his anger was coming from. "Hear that?! I don't give a _damn _about you! Stay here and bleed for all I care, you'll be doing the world a favor, you bastard!"

And suddenly…just like that…Sasori was looking at him. The blonde gasped when he realized those hard brown eyes fixed on his face, filled with malice and haughtiness and burning, blazing composure. But there was pain there too, and a certain vulnerability that he had seen before…in his sister's eyes, whenever she was sick or hurt or scared.

Sasori sucked in air, as if he had been holding his breath for the past five minutes. Then he spoke, in a hoarse, dry voice. "You…you're…" He coughed and tried again. "You…are…Deidara Aozora."

Deidara blinked. "Un?" How did the famous leader of Akasuna know about _him?_ The blonde glanced down at his hand – the one balled into a fist and currently strangling what little chance of life Sasori had. He immediately loosened it and lowered the red-head gently to the floor.

Sasori's hands reached up and grabbed at his arm, weakly. "I'm…supposed to…"

"Hey, idiot, what are you doing? If you hadn't noticed, that's _your _blood all over the floor. I'm just trying to help, un, I'm not your enemy here." Okay, not exactly an accurate point, but…

Deidara crouched down in front of the red-head, mentally detaching him from the Sasori Sekishokudo he followed on television. _What am I doing?! I despise him – he kills for fun and works directly with the Board. This is NOT happening to me, un. _He still wasn't quite sure why he was doing it exactly, and even afterward he couldn't fathom his reasoning. But right then and there, he made a decision.

He was going to save this man's life.

Deidara set his mind to the task and immediately acted on it. He pulled off his hoodie and put it gently aside before sliding his shirt over his head and cutting strips out of the material with his knife. He wrapped an individual strip tightly over Sasori's respective wounds. Rich red liquid soaked through the sky blue almost instantly, but at least he had stemmed the flow.

Sasori fought him (rather pathetically) the whole time he attempted to patch him up. "You know, this would be a whole lot easier if you stopped squirming!" He growled, holding down the red-head's arms as he placed the wrap over his wrists.

"Can't." Sasori gasped, thrashing against the blonde's grip. "Got to…complete…"

"Don't talk," Deidara snapped harshly, leaning back to examine his work. "Wasting all that energy kills you faster." He pulled the hoodie on over his bare chest, crossing his arms and grinning slightly. _Huh. Think I could have been a doctor after all, Ino?_

"Come on. We need to find a better spot to crash." Deidara assumed that there would be any number of Fringe members who would gladly kill the leader of Akasuna without a second thought. Probably best not to stay in the open for too long – Fringes were attracted to the scene of a battle like flies to spoiled meat. "Here, give me your arm." Deidara stood and reached down to his patient.

Sasori bluntly shook his head. Then he coughed, and blood spilled over his pale bottom lip.

The blonde sighed in annoyance – and slight concern. "We don't have time for this, hm!" Without a second thought, Deidara gently lifted the smaller boy into his arms. Sasori no longer had the strength to argue or struggle. He seemed exhausted now, and settled against the blonde's chest with his eyes completely closed. Silky red hair bushed the bottom of Deidara's chin as he walked easily down the church aisle, keeping a steady pace. _Clearly, I'm in the Underworld. ARE there any safe places to stay for the night?_

* * *

><p>Eventually, he did find a place – the church basement.<p>

After Deidara had gone out the door with Sasori in his arms, he had noticed how empty the streets were; totally devoid of life. And shadows seemed to be crawling around corners, up on the buildings…like zombies in a graveyard, staggering with drugs or alcohol, coupled with the glint of a knife in the dark.

Right away, Deidara had known it wouldn't be safe for the two of them out here. For an instant, he had considered setting out on his own. _You know you can get to the surface elevator by yourself, un. You can escape, survive – so just LEAVE him._ But again, he ignored his no doubt intelligent voice of reason and dove back into the darkness of the church. He had found the hatch door leading to the basement behind the tabernacle podium, and carefully descended into the rank blackness of the cool, musty room after leaving Sasori propped up against the wall.

The blonde coughed dust from his lungs and searched for the light switch with his fingers. Suddenly, his hand struck something soft and silky – like the material of a cloak. Gasping, he fell backward, in the direction of the exit. As soon as his foot hit the bottom step, automatic lights (that should have been triggered when he first came down) sprang on, instantly lighting up the interior of the lengthy room.

Regaining his footing, Deidara looked around cautiously, but there was nobody there. Just a small closet filled with colorful priest robes. Inwardly cursing himself for being so stupid (and congratulating himself on finding the light) he quickly scanned the room for intruders or – shiver – more dead corpses. Apparently the fighting hadn't extended to the basement, and judging by the dust and cobwebs, he could assume that no one had used this place for a long time. _Really, why would they expect otherwise of a church in the Underworld? _

A few boxes, a rusty metal table holding ancient chalices, and (this excited Deidara the most) packets of bread pieces stacked on a row of shelves. The blonde quickly tore down a few robes from the closet and found some tablecloths on the top shelf, which he spread out to create a makeshift futon. Once that was settled, he darted back up the steps and retrieved the blood stained red-head, carrying him down and resting him on the "bed" he had set up.

Exhausted, Sasori fell back onto the pieces of cloth, letting out little ragged breaths.

Deidara had a feeling it was going to be a long night for both of them.

* * *

><p>After spending hours cleaning Sasori's wounds with a first aid kit he had found in one of the desk drawers, Deidara leaned back against the wall. He was so <em>tired…<em>he just wanted a few minutes of peace. He hadn't gone the last 24 hours without someone trying to capture, torture, and ultimately kill him; he wanted it all to end, just for a few blissful minutes.

There. He could already feel his consciousness slipping away. His eyes were closed, there was a slight smile on his face as he finally forgot, _forgot _everything that had happened…

Deidara sat up, alert and alarmed. His heart rate slowly settled, but as he blinked away the exhaustion he realized that something must have woken him. It seemed to be a good two or three hours later, and the darkness all around him pressed on his eyes. "Sasori…?" He whispered uncertainly, suddenly afraid that the red-head would pop up behind him wielding a knife. He shook his head. That was ridiculous, Sasori was injured – and last time Deidara looked, that guy wasn't going anywhere for a long time.

Carefully getting to his feet, he squinted into the black shadows and cocked his head, coarse blonde hair falling over his one eye. "Sasori, un?" He shuffled his feet, moving gradually forward as he listened intently. Eventually, he realized that heavy breathing was coming from a misshapen lump on the floor.

Crouching down, Deidara pulled the first layer of blankets off of the red-head, bending down and feeling his forehead. "God…you're burning up." In a surge of panic, Deidara unwrapped the blankets from around his companion and leaned him against the back wall. "Sasori….Sasori! Can you hear me?" _Shit! I should have been watching him! _

The blonde paused with his arms on Sasori's shoulders, and shock flooded him as he felt dry heaves sending tremors through the other man's body. Sasori was sobbing his heart out, quietly and continuously.

"Damn it! How long has this been going on, un?" Deidara leapt up to wet a cloth, then returned and pressed it to Sasori's burning forehead.

And then he just…sat there. Kneeling in front of Sasori Sekishokudo, the leader of Akasuna – pressing a cold compress to his brow. Sasori continued to sob, and Deidara knew the fever must be horrible. His eyes were glazed over in delirium, and he managed to focus on Deidara with difficultly. Even then, he didn't seem to recognize him.

"Is it…almost…over?"

Deidara blinked. "I –" _How the hell am I supposed to comfort this guy? He's a murderer and a Fringe leader! _

"…Hurts." He gasped, suddenly doubling over. "Ah! Please…it hurts!" His voice was rising in pitch, panic rocketing it upward. "GOD! Please make it stop! Please, oh God, it hurts!" It was almost as if he were reliving some painful memory. He kept waving his arm in front of him, as if trying to ward off someone who wasn't there. "No, stop it! Leave me alone! GO AWAY!" He descended into screams and sobs, completely lost to the haze of the fever. Occasionally, he would mutter something random about how much it "hurt", how much he wanted it to please, please stop.

The whole time, Deidara remained motionless, frozen in the same position. Crouched in front of Sasori with one hand on his shoulder, the other pressing the cloth against his forehead. Finally, Sasori quieted down and reverted to heaving gasps. Clearly, he was trying his best to get control of himself. He turned to Deidara, his face stained with tear tracks and his eyes watering over. "De…Deidara?" The blonde raised his head to show that he was listening. "Am I going to die?"

It was a simple question, one that the blonde frankly had no idea how to answer. Sasori sounded so childlike when he said it, afraid and innocent and vulnerable and everything he was not supposed to be.

_This isn't supposed to be happening. I'm not supposed to be sitting here with a Fringe leader and he's not supposed to be dying and that question should not have been asked. _A million more thoughts rushed through Deidara's head at the same instant, but those were the lines he was able to grasp.

Sasori continued to stare at him, waiting for an answer.

Deidara took a deep breath. "Listen, Sasori. I promise, no matter what happens, we'll be okay. Got it? We are going to be just fine, so don't worry too much, un." Unconsciously, the blonde slid down beside him (abandoning the cloth) and allowed him to lean on his shoulder. Deidara hesitated for an instant before reaching out and stroking the blood red locks. _This is what Ino used to do, when I was sick. _

"You're going to be alright. Everything will work out, un. We are all going to be okay."

"Right…" Sasori muttered, shifting his weight so that he was resting fully on Deidara's side. The blonde could feel the heat radiating through his clothes. "We're…going to be okay."

"Uh huh." Deidara agreed, subjecting himself to the slightly uncomfortable position.

Cold brown eyes slowly closed in exhaustion, and soon the sound of heavy breathing filled the room.

Ever so slightly, Deidara Aozora smiled into the darkness.

* * *

><p><em>The bus was packed to capacity – no, past capacity, but it was silent as a burial. Students sat, rock solid and rigid, in their leather seats. Stiff they remained, troops excepting their fate as they were sent into enemy territory. The oldest among them were eighth graders, tall children with bland hair that hung limp and haunted eyes that had seen too much already. Most clutched younger siblings' hands, shifting their eyes nervously. <em>

_Deidara Aozora fidgeted in his uniform. The material was scratchy and coarse. He had heard it would be different, starting at the private academy in the sixth grade after going to public school for many years. Still, something about this place was…off. Ino was lucky not to be coming for another year or so. _

_"As soon as we get the money," His mother had said. "Then we'll get your sister into a decent school, and things will change for all of us."_

_The blonde scoffed as he thought back on it, flicking dust from his shoulder and sprawling himself across the seat. Other students stared at him, as if he had just suddenly sprang up from the pits of hell. "Whatever, un." He muttered, turning back to the window as the bus bumped over potholes. He didn't know why everyone was so tense. He had heard the atmosphere at the academy was stricter, but still – this was just weird. It was like they were expecting something awful to happen at any second, like the bus would be bombed as it crossed the intersection. _

_"They should chill out," Deidara murmured to himself, "Not even Fringe gangs care about a couple of kids, un." He began to play with a stray lock of golden hair that had fallen out of his lengthy braid. Ino insisted on teasing his hair into ridiculous styles. Honestly, did she think he was a girl or something?_

_"Good point."_

_Deidara froze as a voice echoed from the seat behind him. Then he slowly turned, not quite knowing what to expect. Who would talk to the transfer student in the first five minutes, particularly in this kind of atmosphere?_

_There sat a boy, maybe a few years older than himself. He had reddish/gold hair chopped short above his uniform color, and wire-green eyes that were obviously the result of special contacts. The easy smile on his face made Deidara…suspicious. He stuck out his hand eagerly. "I'm Lee. Nice to meet ya." _

_Deidara blinked and watched the outstretched hand. "Is that your real name?" _

_He was surprised when the boy shook his head, still with that same grin. "Nope, it's Zach. You're pretty perceptive, kid." _

_The blonde resisted the urge to sigh. "You obviously don't think so, since you tried to pull the same trick twice. Zach isn't your real name either, is it?"_

_The former continued to smile. He even laughed a little. "Geez, two for two. I'm impressed." _

_"No you're not, un."_

_"No, I'm not." He agreed, lowering his hand and leaning back against the seat. He closed his eyes and his body went limp. _

_Deidara turned around again. The next instant, he found the boy beside him on the seat. He jumped in shock, scooching back against the window. "W-what? How did you…?" _

_The boy laughed. It was a piercing sound, strange and foreign in this graveyard environment. Several students turned to glare at them before quickly turning to the front again, as if afraid to be caught moving at all. "Guess you're not that observant, after all. It's an easy trick, just eliminate muscle tension and slide right under the seat. Though I suppose it does take a certain amount of flexibility." He smirked in an arrogant way before holding out his hand once again. "My name's Tora."_

_The blonde hesitated for an instant before taking it. "I'm Deidara, un." _

_"That's a weird name."_

_"Well, so is yours!"_

_Tora held up his hands in a peaceful gesture. "Hey, don't worry about it. Weird isn't bad. Besides," He winked, "it's a pretty name for a pretty girl."_

_Deidara blinked once before slapping him across the cheek, hard. He realized only then that the act probably hadn't helped his cause. _

_"Ouch!" Tora whined, rubbing the fresh red mark. "What did I say?"_

_"What makes you think I'm a girl, un?!" Deidara shouted, balling his hands into fists and ignoring the dirty looks he was getting from his surrounding classmates. _

_Tora became defensive as well, sliding to the edge of the seat and crossing his arms. "Well first of all, if you're a guy, your hair is WAY past regulation length." _

_There was a beat of silence, then Deidara relaxed and sunk deeper into the leather. "Guess I will be a girl, after all." He muttered, tugging at the end of his golden braid. "For the first semester, at least."_

_"You really care about your hair that much?" _

_Deidara nodded, staring at the other boy glumly. Tora grinned before lunging at him, a pair of scissors that had seemed to appear out of thin air clutched tightly in his hand. _

_"Gah! Get away, GET AWAY!" Deidara attempted to elbow him in the gut, but the stronger boy pinned him against the window, laughing rather maliciously. _

_The next instant, the blonde found himself let loose, gasping on the seat. "W-what…?" _

_A hand came up to cover his mouth. He struggled against it for a few moments before realizing that it was Tora who had him in an iron grip. He was shaking his head, gesturing toward the front of the bus. Deidara wearily tore himself free and glanced in the indicated direction. He hadn't noticed that the bus had stopped until now, and a kid was getting on. The first thing he saw was a head of blood red hair. Cold eyes the color of melted chocolate followed, along with a thin frame and a backpack slung over a bony shoulder. The kids in the seats seemed to compact in on themselves, moving away from the aisle as he came past. _

_Tora, on the other hand, leaned out of his seat and faced the boy with a cocky grin. The red-head stopped as his roadway was blocked, and blinked at Tora once before sliding into the seat beside them and pressing himself against the wall. _

_Tora turned to face the blonde's questioning look. "That's Sasori," He explained, "His dad just started a...you-know-what."_

_Deidara frowned. "Hm?"_

_The former leaned close and whispered, "A Fringe gang, you idiot."_

_The blonde felt his stomach drop. "Oh." _

_"Yeah, the whole school knows about it, it's pretty big on the news right now. Akasuna is definitely getting more popular with the Board."_

_"So why's everyone scared of Sasori then, un?" _

_"Well, think about it. If you piss off the son, and the father hears about it…" He slit his finger across his throat. "Don't want to be getting too close to Sasori, either. That just leads to trouble. Besides, I heard his dad's been training him to kill with his bare hands." _

_"Still, you didn't seem very afraid of him, un."_

_"Well, yeah…I think they're kinda cool, ya know? Fringe gangs and all. I want to get myself noticed, show them I'm not the same brand of wimp as everyone else in this damned city. Someday, I want to be at the top, just to taste how it feels." Tora looked far away now, lost in thought. "You ever want something so bad, you'd kill to get it?"_

_"Un. I want to get out of this place." _

_Tora laughed again. "Good answer, kid. Good answer." _

_A silence fell as the bus rumbled down the last few blocks toward the school. Deidara cautiously peeked around the older boy to get a quick image of Sasori. _

He doesn't look scary, _the sixth grader thought, turning away and resigning himself to staring out the window, _He looks like he wants to get out of here, too.

* * *

><p>The first thing Deidara noticed when he came to was the awful smell. It burned in his nose, bitter and sour and unpleasant. "Un…what the hell?" Quickly, he sat up from where he was lying sideways on the floor, freezing when he heard a small sigh emanate from the space next to him. Slowly shifting his eyes toward the weight leaning against his shoulder, he was surprised to find Sasori slouched partially over him. The red-head's eyes were half-open, and he looked to be in that feverish awakeasleep phase.

Deidara blinked. Then he gently shifted his weight so that Sasori leaned against the wall. Dull red hair splattered across the whitewashed surface, like blood on pale skin. The blonde shivered at the image, and the memories it brought back.

He pushed himself to his feet, covering his eyes as a stray strand of sunshine filtered through the small top-ground window above his head. "Ugh. I really need to bathe, un." He turned up his nose at the red-head. "And don't think you're off the hook, either."

After the incidents of last night had occurred, Deidara decided it was probably a good idea to get his hands on some antibiotics. Of course, he wasn't sure how many pharmacies were open down in the Underworld, but there had to be _something. _

_Fringe gangs must need medicine, _the blonde thought to himself as he scrounged the basement for some breakfast, _In fact, most of them probably have their own private supplies. If I could just find out where one of them is staying… _

Deidara then remembered – he did know where one of them was staying. Or at least, where one of them had stayed in the past. Katsu had an old HQ in the abandoned high rise near the square. It was possible that they had left behind some old medical resources that could prove beneficial. Though Deidara shivered at the prospect of returning to Fringe territory, what other choice did he have? _You could leave him behind. _

He looked toward the red-head shifting restlessly, trying to find a comfortable position. _Maybe I should just…_

He found himself taking out the knife, moving across the lengthy room with swift, silent steps. His heart was pounding in his throat, causing his blood to catch fire and course through his veins. Just one downward thrust and it would be over. Sasori would be no more. Just one. Downward. Thrust.

As soon as he was within stabbing range, a hand shot up and closed around his throat.

"Don't."

Deidara tried to swallow, but found his passages completely blocked off. His air supply was suddenly limited to short, dry gasps and even now the tips of his fingers felt numb. This was the Sasori he was used to – the cold, composed, merciless assassin staring up at him with dead eyes. Then the hardness faded, and the pale hand slipped from his skin to trail down his shirt, and fall back to the ground. "Leave me alone."

The statement was so childish that Deidara had to resist the urge to laugh. After all, he had just attempted to kill the man. "And how would you stop me right now, if I were to…finish up." He gripped the knife tighter just to make a point.

Sasori shrugged with one shoulder. "I suppose I really couldn't do anything, now could I?"

Once again, the blonde was taken aback by the bluntness of the answer. He stood there frozen for a moment, leaning over Sasori with the knife in his sweaty palm. Once again, panic filled his mind. The decision was there, and he had to choose one side or the other. There was no way around it – either he murdered the Fringe leader, or sparred him. There was no grey area.

At that moment, Sasori devolved into another coughing fit. Most would have been surprised at how quickly Deidara dropped the knife and fell to his knees beside his newest companion.

"It's alright. Just take a deep breath, hm. In, and out, and in, and out. There you go." After the red-head's breathing had evened out, Deidara stood and picked up the fallen knife. "Listen, I'm going to go get you some medicine for that fever. There are a few doses of Ibuprofen in the first aid kit I used last night. You can take some to make yourself feel better, okay? If I don't come back, you should stay here, and hopefully the fever will break before long on its own."

"Fine." Sasori staggered to his feet and made his way over to the kit on the table, limbs shaking like a leaves in the autumn wind. As soon as he popped the pills into his mouth (dry) Deidara came up from behind and gently took the red-head's arms, winding them behind his back. "W-What are you doing?" He didn't struggle this time.

"Figured I ought to tie you up before I go, un. Don't want you getting into trouble, now do we?"

"You really think I can't…get myself out of this?"

"I bet you _can, _but if you don't want me to kill you when I get back, you _won't._"

"I could just…walk right out of here, if I wanted to. You couldn't stop me." The icy arrogance of his tone rubbed Deidara the wrong way.

The blonde sighed impatiently as he led his prisoner over to a corner to bind his legs. "Like I said, you could. But if you did, it's really nothing to me now is it? You're the one who won't get the medicine, and will no doubt die on the streets before the next sunrise. So I wouldn't recommend it."

Sasori shut up pretty quickly after that.

As soon as Deidara got him settled – not really making sure he was comfortable, but the blonde attributed that to instinct – he stood and made his way to the staircase leading up to the church's main body. _It's going to take a lot more than antibiotics, _He thought, slightly concerned as he mentally assessed Sasori's current state, _Seems as if he's got a broken arm, and that'll need a cast or splint. Also, those deep knife wounds don't look like they'll be healing anytime soon. _He paused halfway up and sighed, raking a hand through his bangs. He knew that what they needed was a medical profession, not just a couple doses of medicine.

Suddenly he froze, stilling his body and listening carefully. There it was again. A _thump, thump, thump _sound coming from above him, as if someone had entered the church and was walking up the aisle. Who would go to a church if they lived here? And who would enter if they saw _bodies _strewn over the pews? Slowly, Deidara slid the knife from his sleeve and exited through the trapdoor. He came around the tabernacle and pressed himself against the marble walls, peering out to see a figure standing directly in front of the alter. It was a feminine form, and her hands were on her hips in an exasperated way. Her blonde hair (at least, from what he could see) looked oddly familiar, and Deidara had a strange sense that he had seen her before.

Then she called out, and suddenly he knew who she was. "I know you're there! So come on out, you little devil!"

In spite of himself, Deidara stepped out from the shadows into the dim morning light. "Temari?"

As he got closer, the blonde saw that it was indeed the sweet girl from the coffee shop…although she didn't look too sweet now. She had an ugly scowl on her face, and a thick brown bag was slung over her shoulder. "Who's that?" She leaned forward, blinked, and took a step back. The unpleasantness melted from her face, leaving behind innocent confusion. "Wait a minute…you're the guy from the place where I work. You're…"

"Deidara." He finished for her, leaping down the alter steps to alight beside her.

She raised a golden eyebrow. "Well, I must say I'm impressed. I never would have guessed that you're a member of a Fringe gang. Which is it?"

He took a step back at her words, waving his arms quickly back and forth. "No, you've got it all wrong, un! I'm not a…I don't…"

Now she was frowning again, stepping forward. "Then…what the hell are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same question, un." He threw back, finding it slightly concerning that he sounded like a sassy teenage girl.

"Me? I'm here for my cousin."

"Your cousin." He repeated slowly, gradually putting two and two together. "You-you mean…Sasori?"

A cheerful smile grew across her face and she bobbed her head. "Yep, that's him. The Satanist wannabe."

Deidara raised an eyebrow. His brain was working a million miles per second, but somewhere in the back of his mind was a little nagging thought. _Thank God I haven't found any horns yet. _"Wait, so let me get this straight. Sasori Sekishokudo is _your cousin?" _

"That's right." She hefted the bag. "I came to give these to him." She opened it and showed him the contents. Thick bandages, cans of pills and an injection of some kind, along with various other medical supplies.

"This is…how did you get this stuff?"

"Sasori's sister is a nurse…and a pretty damn good one if you ask me. They haven't spoken in years, though, so she sent me instead. Apparently, he's gotten himself hurt again." She eyed him up and down. "But you weren't exactly mentioned."

"How did his sister even know he was in trouble? Or where he was?"

"He texted her last night, gave her the coordinates and everything." Temari shook her head, blonde hair bobbing up and down. "Even after all these years, she still can't say no to him."

_Damn it. I forgot to check and see if Sasori still had his phone on him last night. _Deidara thought, momentary panic sparking within him. Who knew how many people Sasori had texted? Maybe half the members of Akasuna were out to get him now, on top of everything else. "So, um…you want to go see him?"

Temari gestured. "Lead the way."

Deidara guided her through the trapdoor, down the staircase, and into the cellar. He was shocked to find Sasori lounging on his makeshift bed, texting rapidly on his cell phone – it was an old model, lacking the pullout 3-D touchscreens that most gadgets sported these days. The ropes that the blonde had used to tie him up were lying abandoned in the corner.

Temari was standing over him in three long strides, and she glared down on him with a look that would have sent Deidara sprinting in the other direction. "Sasori!"

The red-head didn't even look up. "Temari," He greeted shortly. "What took you so long? I was practically dying last night, you know."

"I can vouch," Deidara muttered, plopping himself down on a rickety old chair. Just one of the many random objects strewn across the unused room.

"I. Don't. Care. Do you know how _worried _I was?!" The last part was a shriek, and Deidara resisted the urge to wince.

"You're contradicting yourself." Sasori muttered, still not looking up from his phone as the female in question glowered. His fingers moved swiftly over the keys, though he seemed to be eyeing a certain corner with no particular interest. In fact, he barely even acknowledged her existence until she snatched his phone and threw it across the room. It seemed to Deidara that everything went quiet, and he stiffened with the sudden weight in the atmosphere.

"Put that damn thing away and listen to me!" Now she really did seem angry, a contrast to the kind, caring girl she had been back at the coffee shop. She loomed over her supposed cousin, but Deidara was surprised to catch a glisten of tears in her eyes. Finally, Sasori was looking at her with a blank, emotionless expression. "We've _all _been worried! Your poor sister was practically dying _herself _when she got that text! Sasori –" For a moment, she seemed like she was so angry she didn't even have the words to express herself. "You…you've got to stop…" Eventually, she sighed and relaxed her posture, trying her best to gain control of her temper. "Oh, what's the point? We've been over this a million times, and you still don't get it, do you?"

Sasori blinked, and once again he looked so much like an innocent child that Deidara felt sick. His eyes slowly slid closed, and at first the blonde thought he was exasperated, but then he noticed the pallor of his complexion. Deidara started out of chair and slid on his knees across the concrete floor, barely managing to catch the smaller male before his head hit the floor. "Sasori!" The bomber exclaimed, shaking him slightly. "Oi, Sasori!"

"Lay him down," Temari said, kneeling beside them, "He's probably passed out from the fever. Guess I should have taken a look at him right away."

Deidara did as he was told, stretching the red-head across the floor and backing off.

As Temari worked her magic, the blonde retrieved Sasori's phone and scrolled through his messages. Surprisingly, it seemed that nothing had been sent to anyone, save the text from Sasori to his sister – a girl named Sakura. "Huh, wonder what she's like…" Deidara muttered, flipping to Sasori's recent images. Usually, he felt wrong going through someone else's things, (mainly because Ino had drilled the habit into him) but hey – this was Sasori, after. The chosen category, however, was marked EMPTY. He raised an eyebrow. "Not a very sentimental person, huh? Guess I shouldn't be surprised, un."

"There, I'm done for now." Temari sighed from across the room, leaning back on her hands. "However, those wounds will need time to heal, and it's probably best that we take him somewhere to recover from that broken arm. We can bring him to my house, though I doubt my brothers will be thrilled to see him."

"Hang on, what do you mean _we?" _Deidara took a step back, unconsciously moving his hand to the knife he had slipped back into his sleeve. "Look, I've done my part. It's time for me to get back up to the surface, settle some things. Un."

Temari glanced at him with surprise and a bit of pity. "Haven't you heard? As of 6:00 this morning, the elevators to the surface have been shut down."

"Wha…? Shut down? WHY?"

She shrugged. "Well, on the morning talk show they reported that the Board was searching for a criminal of some kind."

Deidara felt his stomach drop. He remembered what Pein, the leader of Night, had told him – the message that had been left all over the Underworld. _Get Deidara. _Had the Board left that message for its Fringe gangs, as a sort of order? Were _they _after him as well? "But, I didn't do anything…" He muttered under his breath. The panic must have shown on his face, because Temari saw and misinterpreted it.

"I know, scary, right? Usually the Board doesn't care how bad we get down here, as long as we ultimately behave. Guess it must be another rebellion. We've been getting more streaks of it lately, and the Board isn't too happy about that." Temari peered into his eyes. "Don't worry, you can stay with me and my brothers for the time being. There's some room to spare, and considering the way you cared for Sasori, it's the least I can do."

Deidara hefted a sigh, sticking his hands in the pockets of his now filthy hoodie and glancing over at the inert figure with the bloody halo.

_Guess I'm stuck with you for a while yet._

* * *

><p><strong>AN - Wow, that's...a lot of line breaks. But hey, it was quite a bit to cover! As you can see, that's if for now. Please tell me what you think - reviews are never rejected. Thanks for your time, I appreciate all of your support! **

**Sayonara **


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